


Small

by callmeautumn



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (explicit bonus sexual content in chapter five), (vaginal smells should be described as vaginal smells in every universe), Alpha Hakoda, Alpha Katara, Alpha Sokka (Avatar), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Underage Sex, Designation Politics, Dual Genitalia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Exploring Sokka's Unexamined Trauma, Father-Son Relationships - Freeform, Gender politics, Hakoda Is Trying To Be A Good Parent, Implied Sexual Content, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of homophobia, Omega Suki, Omega Teo, Omega Zuko (Avatar), Omegas Have Body Hair, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pet Names, Realistic Scents, Scents & Smells, Sokka-centric, Unpresented Aang, Unpresented Characters, Unpresented Toph, Vaguely Historical Euphemisms for Genitalia, Water Tribe Traditions, world-building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeautumn/pseuds/callmeautumn
Summary: He’s small without his armor. This, somehow, is Sokka’s first coherent thought. He is small, all narrow shoulders and skinny ankles, and it suddenly seems like a miracle that he even fit his armor in the first place. Then the wind shifts, and all thoughts of size are burned from Sokka’s mind.His scent is sweet, but not cloying. There’s some spice to it, but Sokka can’t tell if that’s his base scent or his frustration. For a brief, blindingly stupid moment, Sokka wants to get closer and find out. He wants to soothe the distress that’s wafting off the Omega in sour waves, wants to hold him and maybe lick him -- see if his skin is as cinnamon sweet as his scent. He crushes the thought as soon as it blooms. He buries it under aggression and mistrust, wills himself not to feel anything at all. He hates his Alpha brain, just a little, for seeing 'Omega' and thinking 'protect' instead of seeing 'Fire Nation' and thinking 'kill.'
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 447





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I've done the thing! I finally wrote the A/B/O fic of my dreams - one with Os that have body hair! Okay, in all seriousness, this fic turned into something much bigger and better than me. I'm really proud of it, and I hope you enjoy it as well! 
> 
> There are no warnings in this one that I can think of, but the emotional hurt/comfort is real and Sokka's relationship with Hakoda (and Hakoda's absence, and what that absence meant for Sokka's sense of self) is explored. Again, I hope you all enjoy!!!

He’s small without his armor. This, somehow, is Sokka’s first coherent thought. He is small, all narrow shoulders and skinny ankles, and it suddenly seems like a miracle that he even fit his armor in the first place. Then the wind shifts, and all thoughts of size are burned from Sokka’s mind.  _ Omega _ . 

His scent is sweet, but not cloying. There’s some spice to it, but Sokka can’t tell if that’s his base scent or his frustration. For a brief, blindingly stupid moment, Sokka wants to get closer and find out. He wants to soothe the distress that’s wafting off the Omega in sour waves, wants to hold him and maybe lick him -- see if his skin is as cinnamon sweet as his scent. 

He crushes the thought as soon as it blooms. He buries it under aggression and mistrust, wills himself not to feel anything at all. He hates his Alpha brain, just a little, for seeing  _ Omega _ and thinking  _ protect _ instead of seeing  _ Fire Nation _ and thinking  _ kill _ . 

He’s even smaller up close. Sokka knows he’s been getting taller, broader, ‘shooting up like a weed through the snow’ as Gran-Gran would say. But it’s disorienting to see Zuko, who had seemed so imposing just a few months ago, barely come up to his chin. Zuko’s eyes sweep the stone room quickly. Then he drops his small (it’s so small, everything about him is  _ small _ ) roll in the far corner and bows deeply. “Thank you, Alpha.” 

The word makes twin bolts of arousal and horror flash through him. “Woah!” He forces a laugh and holds his hands up by his chest in a gesture that could be surrender or pushing away. “No need for titles or anything. I’m just Sokka.” Zuko looks at him, seems to look through him. His scent is muddy, confused, almost palpably wrong-footed. He seems to be at a verbal impasse, so Sokka does what he always does and fills the silence. “You don’t have to thank me for showing you your room or anything. That’s, uh; that’s all standard-- a given, if you will.” 

Zuko is still looking at him like he’s never been offered kindness before, and Sokka really,  _ really _ isn’t ready to untie that pouch of tentacles. “Okay,” Sokka says awkwardly. “Well, uhm, I’ll leave you to settle in. Do you need anything? Nesting… stuff?” 

Zuko flushes almost as red as his scar and looks away, his hands balling into fists. He shakes his head. Sokka has to rub his neck to stop himself from kneading Zuko’s. Tui and La, it’s been  _ way _ too long since he was around an O. 

“Great,” he croaks. “Fantastic. Dinner should be in a few hours, you’re free to do whatever until then. I mean, don’t do anything stupid, like, set somebody on fire or someth--” 

Zuko winces, looks directly to the floor, and digs his fingernails into his palms so hard that Sokka can see the red crescents from across the room. He steps forward to try to stop him, but Zuko takes a step back. He curls up his shoulders, turns his head away like he’s tensing for a blow before shifting halfway to a defensive stance, and Sokka feels his stomach drop into his feet. The bolt of horror returns, ten times hotter and stronger than before. 

Sokka takes a big step back, lets his arms drop to his side. He pulls in air through his nose, blows it out in a thin, controlled stream. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. It still sounds too loud in the stone room. “That was… unfair of me, to say the least. I should know better.” 

Zuko looks up, and he looks so lost, so close to tears, that Sokka has to slam his eyes shut before he’s lost under a wave of  _ defend-protect-soothe- _ **_save_ ** . “I’ll leave you be.” 

He turns on his heel and marches out of the doorway. As he’s leaving, he nearly runs into Katara. Something in her expression is already condescending and mean. Sokka grabs her by the upper arm. 

“Hey, leave him alone. He’s been through enough today.” 

She growls, yanking at her arm. He holds her tighter, snarls in a rare show of dominance. She holds his eyes for a moment, then drops them and rocks back to her heels. She takes a step away from him, turning her head enough to expose the length of her throat. He lets go when she tugs against his grip a second time. Her eyes are sharp and unforgiving as she looks him up and down. 

“You’re thinking with your knot,” she snaps, her true accusation going unspoken. 

“So are you.” He feels tightly wound, touchy, unwilling to let her play Pack Alpha. “There’s a difference between protecting Aang and undermining his decisions.” 

He slips past her and storms through the Temple. He doesn’t stop until he’s deep in the woods filling the valley below, until he doesn’t feel like ripping open his chest and screaming into the sky. 

{}

He scowls incessantly. As far as Sokka can tell, Zuko’s brow is always furrowed, lips are always threatening to pull down at the corners. But when he trains Aang, his voice never rises above a stern reprimand. It’s a jarring change of pace from Toph’s shouting and Katara’s motherly tones. He is firm and clear with Aang, ready to forgive and teach again, and equally ready to call his pupil on his bullshit. Sokka watches them from his perch on a broken column and thinks, bizarrely, of Bato. Much like him, Zuko is quiet and at times distant, but no less devoted to his tribesmen, to  _ Hakoda _ , for it. 

He can often be found having long conversations with Teo, their heads bowed together. Beside the other Omega his spine losens, shoulder blades falling neatly down his back. His voice is soft but he gestures freely with his hands. Yet, even in this relatively relaxed state there is a tension in his face, in his neck, in the way his eyes constantly flicker around the room, checking windows, rafters, doorways, corners. 

The closest Sokka has gotten to seeing a Zuko without tension is when he ropes the firebender into fishing. They don’t have a boat, but Sokka thinks they can stand at the top of a small incline in a fast-moving river and stab fish with spears as they swim upstream. Zuko frowns when Sokka explains it, looks out to the water, and asks, “Like a  _ platypus bear _ ?” in what is quite possibly the most incredulous tone ever achieved by man. 

Despite his initial reticence and general confusion, Zuko readily strips to his undershorts with Sokka and wades into the freezing water. He stands still and patient as the fish all but jump onto his spear. Sokka flares his nostrils as the warm, pine-like scent of Zuko’s satisfaction blooms with every catch. His eyes are narrowed but the rest of his face is blazing, alight with the thrill of a challenge. Sokka misses catch after catch as he watches the rising sun top the trees and kiss Zuko’s hair, then eyes, then nose, then lips, then collarbones, then breast binding. Sokka watches, and can’t stop watching, even though some part of him is certain that he shouldn’t want to lick the path the sun is making down the line of soft hair on Zuko’s belly. 

Zuko clears his throat and looks toward the shore; away from Sokka. “We should head back.” There’s a tightness in his voice, a tension that Sokka doesn’t quite understand until he sees the way Zuko wraps his arms around himself, like he’s trying to cover-- oh. 

Shame is a funny thing. It burns hot and bright in Sokka, rocking through him in pulsing waves of  _ wrong-wrong-fix-it- _ **_no_ ** . He sits with it as they wade back to the shore, Zuko’s spear full, Sokka’s, empty. Now that he’s paying attention he can smell the mirror of his own shame, bright and staticky, sparking off of Zuko. 

“Hey, Zuko. Wait.” Sokka doesn’t mean to grab Zuko’s hand, but when he reaches out it’s fingers that he touches, fingers then a smooth palm that he latches onto. “Zuko, I’m sorry. I should never have stared at you like that. I don’t have an excuse.” 

Zuko has that lost, wrong-footed look in his eyes, but he isn’t pulling away from Sokka touch. “Why are you  _ apologizing _ ?” There it is, that incredulity to top all incredulity. Sokka can sense the pouch of tentacles he didn’t want to touch slowly coming loose. “This is  _ my _ fault,” Zuko continues. “I was distracting you. I should never have taken my shirt on, that was stupid, and- and  _ whorish _ \--” 

“Woah, wait, this isn’t your fault! What are you--- Zuko this is my fault, and I’m sorry, okay? Really, I am--” 

Zuko yanks his hand away to wrap his arm around himself, fists clenched like he can’t decide if he wants to flee or fight. “Stop  _ apologizing _ ! Stop telling me this is your fault. Alphas don’t apologize to Omegas, don’t you  _ get it _ ?!” 

Sokka freezes. Ice is shooting up from his ankles to his throat. Zuko has the look of a child who is trying to be angry so they don’t cry. Sokka would know - he’s worn it often enough. They stand, staring at one another, breathing, for a few long moments. Sokka is the first to break. 

“Do you-- Are--” He shakes his head, holds open his arms. “Can I give you a hug?” 

“A what?” Zuko’s voice has gone soft and unsure; small and fragile just like he is under all that armor. 

“A hug. You’re more than welcome to say no, and I will never,  _ ever _ hold that against you.” Sokka wriggles his fingers. “I just-- I could use a hug and-- and maybe you could too.” When Zuko doesn’t seem particularly convinced he adds, “This is what our pack does when there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Zuko shifts from foot to foot, arms still clutched protectively around his middle. “You aren’t… mad at me?” 

Sokka didn’t think his heart could shatter further, but here he is. “No, Zuko. I’m absolutely, positively  _ not _ mad at you. I behaved poorly and I’m asking for forgiveness. I don’t want us to be enemies. We’re pack now, and pack apologizes.” 

A short, muffled whine slips from Zuko’s throat. He takes a small step toward Sokka, rocks back on his heels, then takes another shuffling step forward. Slowly, oh so slowly, Zuko steps into the circle of Sokka’s arms. He wraps his arms around Sokka’s neck too lightly by half to be a hug. Sokka holds him around his waist, squeezing gently. After a few shaky, stuttered breaths Zuko returns the pressure, tucks his face carefully into Sokka’s neck like he’s unsure how to give affection and receive it in return. 

Sokka nuzzles lightly into his hair. “Is this okay?” 

Zuko nods, squeezes tighter in sporadic notches, balled fists kneading into Sokka’s back. They stand in the warming sun, and Sokka very carefully does not say anything, does not pull away when his neck grows wet, when Zuko’s ribs begin to jump beneath his palms, when Zuko finally lets go. 

{}

“So, you and Zuko.” 

Sokka startles, swinging his sword to face the voice behind him; the voice belonging to Teo. “What?” 

The O shrugs his shoulder, wheeling further onto the training pavilion. “You and Zuko. You’re getting pretty close, no?” 

Sokka comes out of his defensive crouch, sheathing his sword hesitantly. “What do you mean?” 

Teo just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m not  _ Aang _ , Sokka. I’m familiar with the foxes and the crows.” 

“With the  _ what _ ?” 

Teo waves an impatient hand. “I know what happens with an Alpha and Omega like each other very much! Now, getting back - you and Zuko!” 

Sokka’s ears go hot with embarrassment. “No-- we’re not-- why would you think there’s something going on? There’s nothing going on! Did he say there was something going on? Because as far as I know there’s nothing going on. Between me and Zuko. Did I mention there’s nothing going on? Nothing to see here. No sir. Nothing going-- uhm.” 

The unimpressed eyebrow raises higher. Teo lets Sokka squirm for a long while, then, “That was the least believable lie I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

Sokka buries his head in his hands. “I know.” 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Monkey shit.” 

“I’m serious! There’s really-- Zuko and I aren’t dating. We’re-- He’s-- There’s really nothing going on. We’re friends, and Zuko seems to tolerate me better than some of the other people here, but… Zuko doesn’t see me that way, so. It’s not like that between us.” 

“But you want it to be like that between you.” 

Yes. Yes, Sokka desperately wants it to be like that between them. Of all the conversations he ever expected to have with Teo, talking about his embarrassing crush on the prince of the Fire Nation is hardly on that list. But now he’s here, and since Teo is asking  _ yes, he absolutely wants something more with Zuko than what he has _ . But he can’t say that, not here, not now, so he asks,“Since when are you the temple investigator?”

Teo rolls his eyes, then cracks a small smile. “Us O’s have to stick together.” Just, as quickly as it arrived, the small smile disappears. Teo looks older without it, wiser than his boyish face would indicate. Sokka is reminded, very suddenly, that nobody stays a child for very long in this world - least of all Omegas. There’s an edge of a threat in his voice. “Zuko… he puts up a strong front but he’s been through a lot. He’s sensitive under his outside face.” 

“He’d probably kill you for saying that.” 

“Probably. That doesn’t stop it from being true.” Teo eyes Sokka for a long time. Just as Sokka is about to break the silence, Teo speaks again. “Zuko trusts you. Don’t fuck that up.” Then he’s wheeling away, ascending the ramps just as silently as he came. 

{}

Sokka can’t honestly say why he’s poking around Zuko’s past. He doesn’t want to know if Zuko is pining after some Fire Nation Alpha. He wants to step in,  _ be _ Zuko’s Alpha, care for him and support him as he takes back his country and leads with that gentle resolve he applies to everything. But he’s digging anyways, because it would be wrong to foster these feelings if Zuko is happily betrothed to someone else and Teo’s words are still ringing in his head. And also because he apparently cannot close his fat fucking mouth. 

“Well, there was one person - Mai.” 

Sokka smothers his hurt with a laugh. “The gloomy girl who sighs a lot?” 

Zuko beams and Sokka can’t decide if he’s happy that Zuko is happy or crushed that Zuko’s heart so clearly belongs to someone else. “Yeah. We were betrothed when I presented but she-- Agni and Spirits around, she’s my best friend. Of all the possible matches, she was the ideal.” 

“So… what happened?” 

Zuko’s expression drops. He looks over the side of the war balloon and curls an arm around himself. “Once I knew I had to leave the Fire Nation and stand against the Fire Lord, I started pulling away and cutting her off. I knew that once I left I would be hunted for treason. Ozai wouldn’t leave a stone unturned, and I didn’t want her to be caught up in any of it.”   
Sokka nods sagely, like his heart isn’t shattering. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon,” he says just for something to fill the silence. 

Zuko shifts on his feet. “That’s rough, buddy.” 

{}

“Zuko?” 

Zuko doesn’t turn around. “You and Suki.” 

“What? Zuko, you’re  _ bleeding _ .” 

“I’m aware, Sokka. I wasn’t going to bring my sponges on a prison raiding trip.” 

Sokka is painfully slow to reach understanding. In his defense, the scent of an Omega in pain is a bit difficult to think critically through. “Oh! It’s your new moon!” 

This, at least, gets Zuko to turn around, hand skimming over the wheel in a way that makes Sokka very nervous for the flight plan of their ride home. “My  _ what? _ ” 

“Zuko, why are you crying? What happened?!” 

Zuko’s face grows hard. “You and Suki.” 

Sokka would like to think he isn’t dumb. Truly, he would like to think that he is a naturally intelligent warrior and inventor. But he is so wildly confused that he wants to laugh, or maybe cry. “Suki? What about her?” 

“You two are together!” 

“Me and Suki? You and Mai!” 

“Me and Mai?!”   
“Well, you two are together! You said yourself that it’s been a done deal since you presented! You’re set to be her _bondmate_!” 

“No I’m not! I mean, yes, we were betrothed when I presented! But then I was banished and the engagement was called off. We haven’t been betrothed in years!” 

“What do you mean, years? It’s barely been three weeks!” 

Zuko looks at him like he’s grown five heads, or like he’s a particularly stupid polardog who needs directions to the snow in the tundra. “I was banished when I was  _ thirteen _ . And don’t change the subject! You and Suki were together this whole time and you didn’t think to  _ tell me _ ?” Zuko’s face crumbles, then hardens to that now-familiar angry-so-I-don’t-cry expression. “That was cruel of you. It was cruel of you to- to act like I was  _ important _ to you when you were waiting for your perfect Omega to come home. How could you  _ do that _ ?” 

Sokka watches, feeling profoundly helpless as Zuko clutches at himself and scrubs angrily at them tears that slide down his flushed face. A low, mournful sound claws its way out of Sokka’s throat. “Oh, Zuko, no.” 

“Don’t lie to me. Just-- if you’re going to be cruel, at least do it to my face.” 

“I’m not lying, Zuko. Suki and I were together months ago. But we grew apart because of a bunch of reasons, and neither of us are particularly keen on rekindling what we had.” 

“So— you— oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” 

Zuko sniffs, wiping some of the runaway snot from his face with the underside of his shirt. “I’m sorry I yelled.” 

Sokka shrugs. Growing up with Katara has given him a worryingly high tolerance for shouting. 

“Sokka? Can I have a hug?” His voice is so small, so scared. Sokka feels a flash of wonder at how lucky he must be to see his vulnerable part of Zuko. Sokka opens his arms, meeting him halfway. He feels selfish, greedy,  _ triumphant _ when Zuko immediately presses his nose into Sokka’s neck. “You can always have a hug, bird bones.”

Zuko coughs out a wet laugh. “Bird bones?” 

“Bird bones! ‘Cause you’re so small under your armor.” 

Zuko lands a light, stinging slap to the back of his neck. “You deserved it,” he grumbles, but he rises up on his toes and clings to Sokka harder. He shifts his head just a few centimeters, and presses the softest kiss against Sokka’s mating gland -- so soft, it could be mistaken for an accident if it were anyone but Zuko in his arms. All Sokka can do is nuzzle Zuko’s hair and try not to howl with delight. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko’s face goes blank. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”   
> “I mean, why would we be careful. What is there to be careful about?”   
>  Zuko’s face does something complicated as his scent rapidly sours. He tries to pull away his hands, but Sokka holds on tighter, so Zuko turns away as much as he can.   
>  “Zuko? Are you alright? C’mon, Sunshine, talk to me.”   
>  Zuko whirls back around to face him, eyes furious. A burst of fire escapes his nostrils as he points accusingly at Sokka with his free hand. “Don’t do that! Don’t call me cute names, and hold my hand, and scent mark me, and be nice to me, and then ask me what we need to be careful about!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! The relationship progresses! (Sort of a short chapter, but the chapters make more sense this way, I promise!)

When they returned to the Air Temple, Zuko disappeared, first to find a discreet place to hide the warship, then to soak in one of the hotsprings hidden away in the valley. There were introductions to be made and stories to tell, and Sokka didn’t even notice that Zuko hadn’t reappeared until the sun had set and dinner was being served. 

“I’m gonna go track Zuko down; don’t want him to miss dinner.” 

Hakoda rises from his seat near the fire, but Sokka waves him off. Maybe it’s selfish, and maybe he  _ is _ thinking with his knot, but he wants to have Zuko to himself for a little bit and privacy is obnoxiously difficult to come by in an Air Temple. As he’s leaving the courtyard, Teo pins him with a hard look. Sokka pauses, nods. Teo keeps him for only a moment longer before nodding his approval. 

He finds Zuko in his room, bed roll opened on the floor, seated in the corner already eating rice and jerky. At his side, a matching pot and cup of fragrant tea steam. They look equally surprised to see one another, which would be funny if it didn’t strike Sokka as sad. Zuko finishes his mouthful and balances his chopsticks across the rim of his bowl in a practiced motion. “What are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you. What are  _ you _ doing up here? You haven’t said hi to anyone.” 

Zuko shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it over his scarred eye -- a habit he’s picked up since his hair grew past his chin. “I didn’t want to be in the way. I told Katara and she gave me some rice and komodo jerky.” 

Sokka can feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, in his head. A flush of anger is rising to the tips of his ears, the height of his cheeks. “Did she.” 

Zuko slowly sets aside his bowl and rises with hands outstretched. “No, no, no, Sokka, this isn't her fault. I asked her for food and she gave it to me.” 

“She gave you days old rice and jerky that’s at least a month old! This has to stop.  _ She _ has to stop! I’ve let her go unchecked for too long, and she doesn’t know how to draw the fucking line.” 

Zuko grabs his hand, clutches it between two of his own. His grip is clammy and cold, but Sokka is fairly certain that his palms are the only thing stopping Sokka from ripping Katara several new ones. “Let’s not make a scene,” Zuko pleads. (He’s  _ pleading _ . Sokka is going to rip the entire fucking temple apart.) “I’ll come down with you! It’s fine. We’ll just be careful, okay? We’ll be careful, and-- and your father won’t ever find out, and--” 

“Careful? What do you mean, careful? And why would Dad never find out?” 

Zuko’s face goes blank. “What do you mean, what do I mean?” 

“I  _ mean _ , why would we be careful. What is there to be careful about?” 

Zuko’s face does something complicated as his scent rapidly sours. He tries to pull away his hands, but Sokka holds on tighter, so Zuko turns away as much as he can. 

“Zuko? Are you alright? C’mon, Sunshine, talk to me.” 

Zuko whirls back around to face him, eyes furious. A burst of fire escapes his nostrils as he points accusingly at Sokka with his free hand. “Don’t do that! Don’t call me cute names, and hold my hand, and scent mark me, and be  _ nice  _ to me, and then ask me what we need to be careful about!” 

“Zuko, I’m so lost right now. Look, I don’t know where your head is, but  _ this _ ,” he holds up their clasped hands for emphasis. “This  _ matters _ to me! You matter to me! Why would we need to hide this from my dad?” 

“Are you trying to get us killed?” 

“ _ How _ am I going to get us killed?!” 

Zuko is giving him his ‘you’re a stupid polardog who needs directions to the snow’ look. Sokka has quickly learned that this expression will be followed by Sokka hearing something painfully sad that Zuko doesn’t even realize is terrible. Zuko doesn’t disappoint. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re both men. No court is going to care that we’re A-O. They’re going to truss us up like fox antelope fresh from the slaughterhouse!” 

Sokka takes a deep breath so he doesn’t do something monumentally stupid like march directly into the Fire Nation capitol and kill Ozai himself. “Let me make sure I understand. In the Fire Nation,  _ this _ ,” he waves their hands through the air, “is illegal. And you don’t want to tell my dad because you think he’ll kill us?” 

“Yes, obviously.” 

Zuko makes a shocked noise when Sokka pulls him into his chest. “Not obvious,” Sokka says, emphasizing each word with a squeeze. “Not obvious at all, bird bones. Nothing about us is illegal in the Southern Water Tribes. In fact, I’m pretty sure my dad is bonded to Bato.” 

Zuko has the nerve to sound exasperated. “I don’t know who Bato is, Sokka.” 

“Oh, right. Bato is our tribe’s second in command. He’s an Alpha, just like dad, and he sort of stepped in to help parent me and Katara after Mom died. He and my dad have been… close for a while now; even before they went to war. They wouldn’t have said it outright but now that I’m older it’s pretty obvious. My point is, we have nothing to be afraid of.” 

Zuko is quiet for a long while, breathing with his nose pressed directly to Sokka’s neck. Then he’s shifting, rising high onto his toes to press the smallest, lightest of kisses to the corner of Sokka’s mouth. Sokka pulls in a gasp of surprise, holding Zuko flush to him when he tries to pull away. 

“Wait, I-- Just wait, Sunshine. Don’t run away.” 

Sokka’s hand is brushing up Zuko’s back, cupping his neck in his hands. It’s so small in his palm, fitting perfectly in the center of his hand. He pulls gently, kneading the skin until Zuko comes out of his hiding place. His eyes are closed, squeezed shut, but he’s purring. Zuko is  _ purring _ . The sound is rusty, stuttering and crackly, but Sokka loves it. He touches their foreheads together, closes his own eyes so that they are simply two bodies, two sets of breath, two centers of warmth in this cool room. Zuko’s hands clench the fabric of Sokka’s tunic, pulling him closer, sliding their noses alongside one another. 

He should say something. He should stop them, stop this crazy momentum that’s been pulling them together. But he doesn’t. He leans the extra centimeters and presses their lips together, softly, like Zuko might break if he presses too hard. As if hearing his thoughts and immediately rising to contradict them, Zuko presses even closer. His hands have flattened against Sokka’s chest and Sokka wonders, for a brief, blindingly wonderful moment, if Zuko can feel their hearts beating in time. 

Time disappears as they kiss. Breaths are traded back and forth, hands roaming and kneading, squeezing where there is purchase. Zuko is so small, but so strong. Everywhere Sokka touches, there is muscle and warmth and spirits, Sokka wants to put his hands on every inch of Zuko, wants to find out every crevice and plane, wants to map every freckle and scar, wants to taste the cut of his jaw and the fold of his thigh. He’s never  _ wanted _ like this and it scares him; would scare him more if Zuko didn’t seem to be equally lost in the pull, eager and wanting. 

Zuko pulls away, panting thickly with his forehead resting on Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka breathes in the earthy smell rising from Zuko’s hair, rich and heady, and sucks it in by the greedy lungful. When he realizes that this is what Zuko smells like when he’s aroused, when the clutch of his body is slick and hungry, he takes in another breath and holds it, letting the scent linger on his scent pads. Those same urges he felt when he first saw Zuko standing on the ledge are flooding his system. He feels half-feral. He wants to tuck Zuko between his ribs and his heart, make his body into a shield for the Omega. He would do it, would slice himself open in a heartbeat if he didn’t think Zuko would fight him every step of the way. Spirits, what does it say about him that he  _ likes _ that; likes that Zuko fights him, that Zuko stands on his own two feet, that Zuko won’t bend for anyone, not even the people he loves. 

Sokka’s fingers find a patch of skin at the base of Zuko’s spine that his rucked up prison uniform has revealed. He strokes it gently. Zuko shivers, presses closer. Lightly, Zuko’s fingers sift through the short hairs of Sokka’s undercut. Slowly, the smell of fertile soil fades from the air. 

“Yeah?” Zuko’s voice is rough, smokier than usual. Sokka can’t stop his arms from squeezing him, pressing their bodies that much closer. 

“Yeah.” 

“If you two lovebirds are finished?” Sokka whirls around, sword at the ready and growl rumbling in his chest. But it’s just Toph, leaning against the doorway, her head toward them. Zuko makes a choked sound behind him. Sokka wants to reach out a hand, maybe tuck Zuko fully behind his back, but he stops himself and settles for squeezing the grip of his sword. 

“Look, Toph--” 

She holds her hands up. “Hey! I won’t say I’m not surprised, but I know how to keep a secret. Nobody needs to know, alright? I’m not a snitch.” 

Something about what she says is eerily familiar, makes Sokka pause, his sword lowering minutely. “Wait. Is-- are we illegal in the Earth Kingdom too?” 

“There are exceptions for some high-ranking A-O couples, but it’s--.” She pauses, searching for a word. “It’s not exactly something you bring up in polite company, if you catch my drift.” 

Sokka sighs heavily. Spirits, it’s starting to look like defeating Ozai is only the beginning of their world re-building process. He sheaths his sword. “Did you need something?” 

“Yeah. Sugar Queen is bitching about you not being down there when Chief Hakoda just got back. I volunteered to go find you.” Sokka coughs out a bitter laugh. He’d forgotten about Katara but his anger is coming back, smoldering in the pit of his stomach. Zuko’s hand finds his back, five points of warmth through his shirt. He exhales slowly, tries to find some calm, somewhere. 

“Alright. We’ll be down in a bit.” 

Toph shrugs. “Two minutes or I’m telling Katara I couldn’t find you. Guaranteed, she won’t wait for you to finish licking each other’s wisdom teeth.” 

Another choked sound from Zuko. Toph grins maniacally and sets off down the hallway with a cheeky wave of her fingers over her shoulder. The moment Toph is out of sight, Zuko buries his head in the back of Sokka’s neck and wraps his arms around Sokka with a hearty groan. Sokka laughs and gives into the urge to fit his palm to Zuko’s waist. After a moment, Sokka turns and wraps Zuko in a proper hug, breaths in the cinnamon sweet of his hair. 

“I still have to talk to Katara.” 

“Sokka.” 

“Zuko.” 

Zuko whines, a pouty, unhappy sound that would make Sokka laugh if he weren’t so pissed at Katara. “Sokka,  _ please _ . Not tonight. Not when your dad just got back.” 

“If I don’t do it tonight, she’ll just keep pushing.” 

“I can take it.” 

Sokka can’t stop the growl that starts deep in his chest. “But you shouldn’t have to.” 

Zuko sighs, scrapes his teeth down a patch of Sokka’s skin, sending bolts of electricity skittering down Sokka’s spine, and follows with a kiss. “I’m not going to get you to back down, am I?” 

“No. You can stay up here if you like, but when I go down there I’m telling her what I should have told her a while ago: that she has every right to be upset, but none whatsoever to abuse you.” Zuko makes a disagreeing noise. Sokka pulls back just far enough to hold Zuko’s face between his hands, looking him right in the eye. “Feeding you food that’s on the verge of going bad when she’s making fresh food is wrong. Not giving you any blankets when she knows we packed extras during the eclipse preparations was wrong. All her posturing and growling is just taking advantage of you because she knows that-- well, that you’ve had shitty experiences with As. She was wrong, and she’s still wrong, and I need to say something. I’m Pack Alpha and I’ve let her be an asshole without consequence. That has to end.” 

Zuko looks at him for a long while, then looks away. Sokka lets his hands slide down to cover the sides of Zuko’s neck, scent mark him just enough to quiet the possessiveness shooting through him. Zuko quirks a small smile, his own hands rising to massage the scent glands at Sokka’s wrist slightly. “How-- how would she know that? That I’ve— That there have been shitty Alphas, I mean.” 

Sokka gnaws at his still-tingling bottom lip. “You-- you do certain things; say things. The way you act around us sometimes… it’s an easy picture to paint.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry. I-- I can’t imagine it’s the type of thing you want too many people knowing.” 

“No, it’s-- you’re right.” Zuko mirrors him, bites his lip. “I-- The Fire Lord is an Alpha.” 

Sokka aches, a little bit. It hurts him that Zuko puts that distance between himself and his father. Then again, Sokka would do the same if he were in Zuko’s shoes. Sokka gives into the urge to haul Zuko closer, wraps himself around Zuko like a hug could protect the O from his past. “I’m so sorry.” 

Zuko inhales, holds the trembling breath between his ribs, then lets it go. “Yeah, me too. I’m still coming down with you.” Sokka doesn’t have to see him to know that Zuko has squared off his jaw, set his shoulders like everything bad in the world is a strong wind he can weather through sheer will. He knows that nothing he says will stop Zuko from following him through the temple and directly to the heart of the fight. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay. I think we’re out of minutes.” 

Sokka snorts a laugh. “Now or never, I guess.” 

{}

He and Katara are toe-to-toe. Zuko stands behind him, a steady presence that Sokka feels without seeing. Somewhere to his right, Hakoda is watching them, a threat that Sokka doesn’t understand but can’t fully ignore either. Sokka looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, struggling to find some peace to pull from. He’s kept his calm this far, letting her yell herself hoarse, but his patience is running dangerously thin. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Katara’s voice is shrill, furious. 

“Don’t speak to me like I’m your child, Katara. You aren’t my mother, and you aren’t Pack Alpha.” 

Katara smiles. It’s a nasty thing. “You aren’t Pack Alpha either! Dad is.” 

“Dad left.” He doesn’t say it with any sort of inflection, but it pulls Katara up short. The silence that falls is punishing. Sokka pushes through it, makes his point. “You love to play at Pack Alpha, but I’m the one holding this pack together and half the time I’m making ammends because  _ you _ couldn’t draw the fucking line. I let you shit on Zuko because I thought your temper would run its course and let the past be the past. I was wrong. You still haven’t learned, so I’m drawing the line for you. Leave. Zuko. Alone.” 

Katara looks at him for a handful of heartbeats, nasty smile dissolved into a bitter frown. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, so let me jog your memory. When we needed him most he betrayed us and Aang ended up  _ dead _ . I don’t have any more spirit water! We don’t have any second chances! We can’t trust him and once you get your knot wet you’ll see that I was right.” 

Sokka sees red. Katara may be a master waterbender, but she’s a shit hand-to-hand combatant and he’s got the type of desperate speed that she’s never needed. It’s laughingly easy to pin her to the ground, one hand pressing her hands flat to the ground above her head, the other gripping her chin, forcing her to yield. She tries to buck him off but he sits flat on her hip bones, snarling directly in her face. She snarls back weakly, carries on struggling for a few moments longer, then submits. Her head falls flat into the dirt, chin turned away to expose her neck. 

After a few satisfying breaths of silence, Sokka lets her go, standing and pulling her to her feet. “I said what I said. Leave Zuko alone. Forgive him, or don’t; I can’t force you. But you do need to lay off. How would you feel if I did what you’re doing to Aang?” 

“Aang is a Beta.” 

“You can’t honestly believe that.” When Katara just screws her jaw shut, crossing her arms with a self-righteous huff, Sokka rolls his eyes. “He isn’t a fucking Beta, Katara, he’s  _ twelve _ . He’s an unpresented  _ pup _ , and you can’t pretend otherwise.” 

Katara doesn’t bend, just sniffs in her usual  _ I’m not dignifying this conversation with a response _ way. Sokka clenches his fists, inhales slowly, leans into Zuko’s hand, which has appeared at the center of his spine. Those five points of contact are the only thing stopping him from pulling this temple to the ground brick by brick. 

“Sokka is right.” Aang emerges from the shadow that Sokka’s tackle pushed them into. “I know you’re upset. But you need to let this grudge go. It’s only standing in the way of all of our healing.” He opens his mouth to say something more, but Katara’s growl startles him into wounded silence. Sokka steps forward, shoves Katara back. 

“Go take a walk,” he says. “Cool down before you do something you’ll regret.” 

She holds her ground long enough that Sokka thinks he might have to force her away. Then she turns and stomps off, storming through the collection of pack members that have amassed to watch their fight. Sokka pulls air into his chest, pushes it out, does this over and over until it feels like breathing. Zuko’s hands sneak forward and curl around him. He presses his forehead into Sokka’s neck, holds him until Sokka sags. Exhaustion and a grief he can’t name pull at his bones, pull his shoulders into a hunch and his head into his chest. Zuko just holds him tighter. 

Aang edges into Sokka’s periphery. He looks so young, so afraid that Sokka cannot help but open his arms. Aang dives for him, folding his body into Sokka’s. Within his arms, Aang breathes in trembling, slow breaths. He still has that milky sweet scent, the one that disappears once a pup presents. Sokka breathes it in, let’s it mingle in his nose with Zuko’s cinnamon and honey sweetness. As Sokka holds him, he knows that he can only offer his arms as a safe haven, his body as a shield, and isn’t that familiar? Isn’t he always throwing himself bodily in front of danger, like his bones and skin could form some sort of barrier between those he loves and everything wrong with their world? Isn’t that how it always seems to go? 

Just like his native element, Aang slips out of his arms almost without Sokka noticing. He smiles, his eyes red, then slips into the valley below on a swell of air. Sokka straightens. He tries to square his shoulders, but they falter. His eyes slip closed, tears welling behind them.  _ He’s so fucking tired _ . _ He’s so tired of never being enough _ . Zuko slips to his side, pushing up Sokka’s arm until he is tucked beneath it, pulling Sokka back into the temple. Zuko is his strength, the presence that urges one foot in front of the other until Sokka is back in his own room. With a nudge of Zuko’s hands, Sokka is falling gratefully to his bed roll. Zuko smiles sadly, turns to leave-- 

“Wait.” Sokka’s voice is tight, hoarse. “Wait, I-- stay? Just to sleep?” He hates that he sounds so needy. He should be stronger than this, strong enough to hold them together through the worst of this war. He should be strong enough, but he isn’t. Not right now. Zuko swallows, nods, kneels beside him. 

They undress in silence, stripping down to their underclothes just as they had at the river. It seems like a lifetime ago that they were standing in that freezing water, that Sokka was watching the sun kiss Zuko like he so desperately wanted to. But the moonlight is cool and blue, bathing Zuko in a different type of beauty. Sokka thinks, without really meaning to, about Yue; wonders what she thinks of them, why it feels so different to be with Zuko before her than it felt to be with Suki.

Zuko slips into the bedroll next to him, urges Sokka onto his side, away from Zuko. Sokka mounts a protest, but Zuko hushes him.  _ Trust me, _ he says, or maybe he doesn’t but Sokka hears it anyway, hears it in the warmth that passes between Zuko’s body and Sokka’s. Zuko wraps him up from behind, holds him like Sokka hasn’t been held since he was a child. Grief swells like a tsunami within him, washing mercilessly over the shores of his eyes. He sobs. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dad--” Sokka stalls for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here,” he finally says.  
> Hakoda smiles softly, painfully, then seems to come to some sort of decision. He shifts the wetting stone to the other hand, offers his recently freed forearm. “Alpha Sokka.”  
> Sokka takes a deep breath, clasps his hand onto Hakoda’s arm firmly. “Alpha Hakoda.” The words feel foreign and heavy on his tongue, but Hakoda just smiles as if to say we both knew this day would come. Maybe they did. Sokka releases his grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Hakoda.

Sokka wakes to a darkened room and Zuko slipping out of the bed roll they shared. He makes a noise of protest, fuzzy and confused, but Zuko shushes him. His lips, warm and chapped, graze Sokka’s forehead. 

“I have to go meditate,” he whispers. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep.” 

But Sokka is awake, now. He watches Zuko dress in the low light of morning, snatches his hand before Zuko can disappear. He presses a kiss to the center of Zuko’s palm. “Have fun jerkbending.”

Zuko snorts and slips his hand out of Sokka’s grip. He turns, then pauses and turns back. Dropping to a graceless crouch, he presses a kiss to Sokka’s lips then rises and slips out of the room. Sokka smiles, rolls over, and presses his face into the spot where Zuko’s head rested, luxuriating in the cinnamon sweet scent the O left on his pillow. 

{}

When he next wakes, Hakoda is sitting in the far corner, sharpening the blade edge of his club in quiet, even motions. Sokka sits up, doesn’t pretend to not watch his dad. Without stopping his whetting, Hakoda looks up, meets his eye glancingly before looking back to his club. Sokka wants to cough out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Did you need something?” 

Hakoda winces, looks back to his club, now motionless in his hands. He looks older in the sunlight - new wrinkles creasing the skin at his eyes, the corners of his lips. It’s hard to believe that he’s barely forty winters. “I wanted to talk.” 

Sokka nods, shifts to face Hakoda more fully. Already, the peace he felt laying with Zuko is slipping away. He feels on edge, feels like picking a fight for no reason other than that Hakoda is an Alpha in his territory and won’t even look him in the eye. 

“You and the Fire Nation boy,” Hakoda broaches. “That must be… new.” 

Sokka shrugs. “It is. Is that what you wanted to talk about?” He hopes Hakoda will say no. Sokka doesn’t want to talk about Zuko, not when what they have is still so fragile. He wishes everyone would leave them alone, let them feel out their relationship without the whole pack breathing down their necks. 

Hakoda shrugs. “Not exactly.” 

“So what did you want to talk about.” 

That wince again, like every word out of Sokka’s mouth is an attack. Maybe it is. “I just-- I wanted to congratulate you.” 

This pulls Sokka up short. Of all the things he expected Hakoda to say, all the arguments he expected the A to mount, a congratulation never crossed his mind. “On being with Zuko?” 

“No. I-- I still haven’t made up my mind about that.” 

That disbelieving laugh tumbles out of him. “There’s nothing to make up your mind about.” 

At least Hakoda is looking at him now. “If you didn’t want to talk, you didn’t have to.” 

_You stole that option from me by sneaking into my room while I was asleep_ , he wants to snap. He doesn’t, focuses on the blood pumping in his shoulders instead; shifts his hand back until he feels the place where Zuko laid just hours earlier, cool and no longer smelling cinnamon sweet, but soothing nonetheless. 

Hakoda’s face is hard, nostrils flaring in the silence. He puffs up, chest expanding. He doesn’t look as big as Sokka remembered. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m your Alpha.” 

Sokka sighs heavily. This isn’t the conversation he wanted to have first thing this morning, but here they are. “You’re my Dad, and you’re an Alpha. That’s all still true. But you aren’t _my_ Alpha. Not any more. You don’t get to make decisions for me about who I court.” 

“Since when.” 

“Since when do you think? You left the safety of our tribe to me four years ago. I was a child, and you placed that responsibility in my hands. How much longer did you think I was going to remain a pup?” 

Hakoda looks away, shame rising in his scent. “I didn’t realize you were upset about that.” 

“Of course I’m upset. We needed you and you left.” Then, more quietly. “ _I_ needed you and you turned me away. In the end, I wasn’t any safer at home than I would have been with you.” He holds up a hand to stop Hakoda’s rebuttal. “I know. I chose to leave the tribe and chase after a walking, talking danger magnet. But even if Katara and I had washed our hands of Aang, the Fire Nation would have known that our tribe was abandoned by it’s warriors and completely unbarricaded. Nothing would have stopped another fleet from sailing up and melting our tribe into the ocean.” 

“So you agree that your Fire Nation boy is a liability? That he would sell you out to the Fire Nation the moment it was convenient to him.” 

“No, not at all. Even then, when he was objectively at his worst, he kept his word. He promised that he wouldn’t attack if Aang went with him, and he stood by that. Any other Fire Nation general would have said whatever it took to get Aang on board, then turned right around and buried our charred corpses in black snow.” Hakoda looks away, grief rising to twine with shame in his scent. “My point,” Sokka continues more gently, “is that nowhere on this planet is free from war. Nowhere is safe forever; even the most remote outposts of an already decimated population. But you knew that before you left.” 

Hakoda clears his throat. “You’re right. I did know.” He pauses, flipping the club over and over, a nervous gesture Sokka remembers from when he was a pup. “Do you resent me for it?” Hakoda sounds more vulnerable than Sokka has ever heard him. His eyes are pleading with Sokka, begging him for absolution. Sokka doesn’t know that he can give it. 

“I understand why you left,” he says carefully. He doesn’t even know if that’s true. Does he understand? Or does he want to understand to save himself from nursing a festering, putrid hate toward his own father? He can’t say. Not really.

“That didn’t answer my question.” 

“No. I guess it didn’t.” 

They sit in silence, the mess of everything said and unsaid sitting between them. Sokka runs his fingers through the fur of his bed roll, wills Zuko’s scent to rise out of the fine hairs. 

“You did well last night,” Hakoda finally says. “With Katara, I mean. I can’t say that I’m thrilled that you and the Fire Nation boy--” 

“Zuko. His name is Zuko.” 

“Fine. I can’t say that I’m thrilled about you and Zuko being… involved. But Katara was wrong to say what she said. If she has grievances, she can air them privately.” 

“That wasn’t the point of what I said.” 

Hakoda nods. “I know. I’m just-- I’m trying to say that you reminded me of-- of your mother.” Silence hangs thick between them, sticky and sorrowful. “Katara gets her temper from me. Kya was always the one to handle matters with a level head, arguing her point without dropping to petty insults. I was the warrior, but... she was the ambassador.” 

Sokka isn’t sure what to say in the silence that follows his father’s statement. “I don’t remember her very well,” he admits. “But, thank you.” 

Hakoda looks at him like he’s looking through him. Sokka wonders when he became a stranger in his father’s eyes, or when his father became one to him. Maybe Hakoda isn’t so much a stranger as a human, a person who is fallible and flawed instead of Sokka’s childhood delusions of grandeur. 

Hakoda nods, looks away from him. He collects his whetting stone in one hand, grips the binding at the base of his club with the other. “I’ll leave you be.” He stands in a practiced, hands-less motion, and heads for the door. 

“Dad--” Sokka stalls for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here,” he finally says. 

Hakoda smiles softly, painfully, then seems to come to some sort of decision. He shifts the wetting stone to the other hand, offers his recently freed forearm. “Alpha Sokka.” 

Sokka takes a deep breath, clasps his hand onto Hakoda’s arm firmly. “Alpha Hakoda.” The words feel foreign and heavy on his tongue, but Hakoda just smiles as if to say _we both knew this day would come_. Maybe they did. Sokka releases his grip. 

{}

Zuko is asleep on his shoulder. Their fingers are intertwined on Sokka’s knee, his hand loose and warm with sleep. On Sokka’s other side, Topha has fallen asleep on his thigh, her body curled up impossibly small. Sokka considers reaching over to pull a blanket over Toph’s body, but quickly lets the thought go. Too much shifting, too many people finally getting the sleep they need. Across the saddle, Katara is twisted away from him, looking through the clouds to the ground below. 

“Katara?”

She looks over her shoulder, face held carefully neutral. “Yeah?” 

“Could you pass me a blanket?” 

She grimaces but nods, crawling over Suki’s sleeping form to their spare supplies. “We should have given some of these to everyone who left,” she laments. 

Still, she pulls one of the thicker blankets from the pile and hands it to him, then takes another and covers Suki from the high-altitude chill. With a few flicks of his wrist, Toph is fully covered as well. Katara returns to her place on the other side of the saddle, but she doesn’t turn away from them again. She just looks at him, looks at the sleeping forms taking refuge on his body. She tips her chin toward Zuko. 

“His sister’s batshit.” 

Sokka snorts hard, caught off guard by Katara’s dry appraisal of the matter. Zuko snaps upright, eyes unfocused and afraid. Sokka reaches out, pulls him back down with a hand on his neck. “Shh, it’s okay,” he coos, trying not to laugh too hard. “It’s alright, Sunshine. Go back to sleep.” Fuzzy and malleable with exhaustion, Zuko nods and slips down to slot his head into the curve of Sokka’s throat. Within moments, his breathing has evened out again, sleep claiming him once more. 

He and Katara lapse into silence once more. Sokka focuses on Zuko’s breath, warm and wet on his throat, the way he’s drooling just a bit down Sokka’s collar. On his thigh, Toph rolls over until she’s lying on her back, limbs sprawled and mouth half open. Sokka’s hand finds a slip of skin at Zuko’s side, strokes it gently. Tui and La, he’s soft everywhere. 

“He’s drooling on you.” 

Sokka can only shrug with his free shoulder. “I know.”

Katara gives him a hard, unreadable look. Then she looks away. “He did good today. Fighting Azula, I mean.” 

He isn’t sure what to say so he doesn’t say anything at all. She’s right, of course. Zuko did fight well this morning. He kept Azula on her toes, kept her on the defensive the entire fight which is no small feat. He even nearly killed her. Sokka’s thoughts grind to a halt as he considers what it would take for him to kill Katara. Even when he wants to throttle her, even when they’re at their most stubborn and furious at one another, he doesn’t think he could actually kill her, much less bear the weight of her death on his shoulders for the rest of his life. 

But Zuko was ready to do it. He didn’t look happy as he watched her plummet; not at all. In fact, he’d seemed stricken and almost surprised as he’d predicted her early death. At the same time, he didn’t seem pleased when Azula caught herself either. Sokka isn’t sure how to feel about that. 

{} 

“What you said was shitty.” Sokka stands in front of Appa, one hand fisted in his fur. Katara’s face is unreadable behind her mask, but her eyes are the same as they always are when it comes to Mom - wide and hurt, something proud and broken in their blue depths. 

When she speaks, her voice is quiet, determined. “Sokka, get out of the way.” 

“No. Not until you promise me you’ll both be coming home.” Whatever Katara thought he was going to say, it clearly isn’t this. Her hands go slack on the reins. “I know I can’t stop either of you,” Sokka continues. “I’m not stupid. But promise me you’ll watch each others’ backs.” 

From the saddle, Zuko leans over and nods solemnly. In the confidence of his mind, Sokka can admit that it wasn’t Zuko Sokka was worried about. Katara still hasn’t moved, either to grab the reins or answer his question. Her eyes are flickering through emotions too fast for Sokka to analyze. Finally, she nods once, sharp enough to make the mask slip off the bottom of her face revealing the pressed-thin line of her lips. 

He eyes her for a few more moments, opens his mouth to say some final goodbye, but closes it. He doesn’t have anything else to say to her that isn’t draped in hurt. All he can do is let go. Appa’s fur is tufted where he gripped it, but he isn’t able to smooth it before Katara is urging the flying bison into the air. He watches them fly away, squinting at the sunrise sky until he truly can’t tell bison from cloud. Aang comes up on one side, then Toph and Suki appear on the other. He appreciates their silent solidarity, the way they do not pretend that two massive pieces of his heart haven’t just flown away from him. 

“C’mon,” he says after they’ve been standing long enough. “Let’s get some laundry done; see if we can’t get Appa’s fur off of everything. I have an idea.” 

{}

The sun is setting and they still aren’t back. Sokka watches the skyline, pausing his folding every few garments to look around, see if any clouds are moving faster and lower than the others. Nothing. Aang catches his eye, smiles a little, though it’s sad around the edges. He offers one back, pauses when Aang squints at the air somewhere to the left of his head. 

Just as he’s beginning to wonder how much sleep either of them have gotten recently, Aang shouts, “They’re back!” 

Sokka whirls around to see Appa, still a small spec but coming closer rapidly. “Why isn’t Katara giving them cover?” 

The joy on Aang’s face slides to a frown. “I don’t know.” 

As the bison gets closer, Zuko’s form becomes visible on Appa’s head. The saddle looks empty. Either Katara isn’t in it, or she’s flat on her back. Sokka doesn’t like either of those options. Appa lands with a small noise of relief. 

“Katara’s okay,” Zuko begins, not even bothering to get off of Appa’s head. “She’s on the shore. You guys should come.” As Aang hurries aboard, scaling Appa in a single burst of air, Sokka scans Zuko’s face, looks for something to hold onto. Zuko offers a sad smile, brow still furrowed. The wind blows some of his hair into his face. 

“Are you coming?” 

“I-- someone has to stay with the camp.” 

Toph calls out from her rock tent, assuring them all that she will hold down the fort and Suki is quick to second it. Zuko bites his lip, tips his head toward the saddle. Sokka can only shake his head and start climbing onto Appa’s head. Aang will need to focus on giving them cover, bending water and air at the same time, and Sokka just wants to be close to Zuko right now; close enough to feel him breathe, to scent him on the cool, thin air, to reassure himself that Zuko is here, and real, and unharmed, just as he promised he’d be. 

Up in the air, Sokka gives into the urge to lay his hand on Zuko’s knee. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Fire Nation fabrics, the way they seem to slide between your fingertips. He strokes the fabric with his thumb and thinks about how Zuko’s skin is softer. 

Zuko looks over and smiles knowingly. “If you want something, you should ask for it.” 

“Can I-- uhm. Could-- could we--” he exhales tightly. He feels so stupid. Why is he always so much more eloquent in his mind? “Can I hold you?” 

Zuko flashes his blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile then scoots forward to leave space behind him on Appa’s head. Very aware of how high off the ground they are, and how slippery Appa’s fur can be, Sokka scooches over, pulls Zuko squarely into the v of his legs. He buries his head in Zuko’s hair, takes in greedy breaths of Zuko’s cinnamon-honey scent. There’s something heavier than usual in his scent, but Sokka can’t quite place it. He squeezes tighter, encourages Zuko to relax into his hold. 

“You alright?” 

Zuko nods, then, “So when were you going to tell me that Katara can bend people’s blood?” 

Sokka’s breath slams to a halt in his lungs. “She _blood bent you_?” 

“What? No. She used it on a Fire Nation captain.” Zuko doesn’t seem to notice that Sokka can practically smell his own relief. “You were all upset about the old food,” Zuko continues, “but she totally could have made me walk off the edge of the temple, or run myself through with my swords.” He says it in a horrifyingly content voice, like he’s pleased with the notion. “But she didn’t! You were worried for nothing.” 

Sokka gives into the ever-present urge to bury his face in Zuko’s neck. He smells happy, which is soothing despite being so damn worrying. “We need to work on your sense of what is an appropriate response to being upset with someone.” 

Zuko snorts out a laugh. “Probably.” 

{}

“What happens next?” Zuko’s voice is low in the cover of night. They’ve been flying for days, headed toward a hideout Zuko suggested. They’re all exhausted, and smelly, and snapping at one another for the smallest of things but Zuko is here, curled up in Sokka’s tent. He is close, close enough for Sokka to reach out and run a thumb across his cheekbone. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean after the war.” Something in Zuko’s voice catches, nearly breaks. 

“I don’t know.” Sokka admits. “I suppose I’ll be needed back home for a little while. But I don’t know how the Tribes plan to dismantle so it’s hard to say.” 

“You won’t be chief?” 

“No? I mean… maybe; if I’m elected. But that would be at least a few months down the road. First all the Tribes have to figure out what they’re doing, then we have to see if Dad is stepping down from being Chief of our tribe. He’s only forty winters so that’s unlikely.” 

“Oh.” Zuko’s eye scans his face as he processes this. “I guess I thought-- I don’t know. I thought we were in more similar shoes.” 

Because Zuko will be Fire Lord. When this is over, after Aang kills Ozai, Zuko will be responsible for a nation. He won’t just be a citizen, or even a Prince. He’ll be a king. _Where do I fit_ , Sokka wants to ask. _Where am I in your future?_

“What--” Zuko stops, clears his throat, eases closer. “Would you want to rule?” 

Sokka coughs out a laugh, desperate for time now that Zuko’s future is so clearly laid out for him, so clearly without space for a random Water Tribe boy. “You’re asking some tough questions tonight.” 

A flush rises quickly to Zuko’s cheeks. “Sorry, I’ll--” 

“No, Sunshine, it’s fine. I need to think about this eventually. I--” A familiar shame rises in him as he thinks about the day of the eclipse; how he’d failed to lead so many times; how his failures had led to nearly a hundred men imprisoned and at the mercy of the Fire Nation. “I don’t know. I-- I’m not like you. I wasn’t raised with the expectation that I would lead.” 

“Neither was I.” 

“What?” 

“I wasn’t raised to lead. I mean, Uncle was set to take the throne. His son, Lu Ten, would be next in line after him. Then came Ozai, _then_ me. After I presented, I was taken out of the line of succession altogether.” 

_He isn’t in the line of succession_. Hope, fragile and so very sweet, rises in Sokka’s chest. “So… you _won’t_ be Fire Lord when this is over?” 

Zuko sighs heavily, shifts close enough to rest his head on Sokka’s bicep. “It’s hard to say. Ideally, Uncle will become Fire Lord, as is his birthright.” 

That same hope curdles in Sokka’s chest. “You don’t sound like you believe that will happen.” 

“I’m not holding my breath for it. Uncle doesn’t want to lead. After Lu Ten died, Uncle was… fundamentally changed. He spent time in the Spirit world, and came back a different man. He doesn’t believe in being Fire Lord anymore - feels there’s no honor in it. Lu Ten is dead, and hopefully Ozai will also be dead when the matter of succession comes up. If Uncle doesn’t doesn’t take the throne, Azula and I will be the only two with a claim to the title. If I win the Agni Kai--” Another gusty sigh, this time with far less certainty. “And that’s a _big_ if--” Zuko trails off, doesn’t seem to know how to begin. 

“I don’t know what an Agni Kai is,” Sokka says quietly. 

Zuko winces. “Of course. It’s… it’s a traditional fight for honor. In most duels the first burn is sufficient to prove that honor has been won or lost. With Azula--” Zuko tucks his head into Sokka’s chest, whispers, “With Azula, in an Agni Kai for the crown, it will almost certainly be a fight to the death as tradition dictates. I will have to kill her, or she will certainly take the opportunity to kill me.” His breath hitches, presses out in a whimper. “I don’t want to kill my baby sister.” 

Zuko says it like a confession, like something dirty he cannot admit to. Sokka can only hold him tightly, press the sweetest kisses he’s known into Zuko’s hair while he sobs. Tears of his own well in Sokka’s eyes as he considers what he’d do in Zuko’s shoes. He’s been running from this train of thought since they abandoned the Eastern Air temple, dodging it every time it reared its ugly head. How would he kill Katara? Could he even do it? Could he hold her life in his hands, look into her big eyes, and choose to end her? He doesn’t know. He can only hold Zuko as he grapples with this impossible task - killing someone you might have loved. 

{}

“Do you ever think about being chief?” 

“Yes.” 

Katara’s answer is quick and nearly unnerving in its certainty. Sokka isn’t sure what to say in response, isn’t even sure if that’s the answer he was hoping to get. “Don’t you?” she presses. “With your Pack Alpha lines, and all?” There’s some hurt lingering in her eyes, but she flicks water at him from her fingertips like they’re toddlers again to soften the blow. 

“No,” he admits quietly. “Zuko and I were talking about it last night; what happens after the war, I mean. I guess he thought that because I’m the oldest Alpha, I’ll immediately become chief?” 

Katara snorts, rolling her eyes. “As if.” 

Sokka shrugs. “That’s how the Northern tribe is.” 

“Yeah, and the Northern Water Tribe is a bunch of stuck up, sexist pricks who think that Omegas and women can’t be warriors, and treated Yue like a pawn in their political games rather than a human being.” 

Sokka can’t disagree with her. The Northern Tribe - even in the stories of life before the Hundred Year War - is the more conservative sister, doing things as the rest of the world does them. In comparison, the Southern Tribes are a collection of savages, a loose federation of smaller tribes that elect their leaders rather than bearing them. “Either way, it made me really think about it.” 

“But you don’t want to lead.” Something about the way Katara says it makes Sokka pause his sewing. 

“Why do you say it like that?” 

Katara shrugs, brow furrowed in work. “I dunno. You’ve just never shown any interest. You’re a good Pack Alpha - not that I should tell you that. Your head is big enough as it is. But you were stressed as La about leading on the day of the eclipse, and when you _do_ lead it's because you have to. You don’t _want_ to lead.” 

“Some would say that makes someone perfect for leading.” 

“Or it just sets you up to be miserable your whole life.” 

Sokka isn’t ready to open that line of conversation. He pivots readily, “So you’re excited to be miserable? I thought you were going to spend your days saving the world with Aang? Maybe commit some vigilante ecoterrorism, steal some other Spirits’ disguises.” 

Katara rolls her eyes. “Aang is more than capable of keeping balance by himself. If he needs me, I’ll be a ride on Appa away. But… I guess, the more of the world I see, the more I realize how much I’m needed back home. When I was a kid, I thought everywhere was like our village. But now I see how far we still need to go. I can’t imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else. No matter what, rebuilding is going to require waterbenders and I can’t imagine too many Northern Water Tribe assholes offering to help. Besides, I miss the cold and the ice. I miss being surrounded by my element in that tangible way.” 

Guilt, sticky and hot, rises in Sokka’s throat. He focuses on his sewing, blinks hard like he’s trying to recount the stitches. As always, Katara sees right through him. “You don’t feel that way, do you.” She doesn’t say it with any rebuke, but Sokka feels the lash anyway. It takes a while before he finally finds his words. 

“No. The more of the world I see, the less I’m convinced the Tribes will ever be enough for me. Even before Aang, I dreamed of more; running off to fight in the War, maybe falling in love and settling down in some foreign land - the Earth Kingdom, maybe. I had never really planned to stay. But now I feel like maybe I should? Maybe I’m needed with the Tribes, y’ know?” He brushes his tears away with a rub of his shoulder. “It’s probably high time I put away my childhood fantasies and focus on what actually matters. Besides, Zuko has a nation to run. He won’t have time for me.” 

Katara launches herself toward him and pulls him into a massive hug. He flails for a moment, then relaxes into her hold. She’s always smelled of home to him - cool winds, and salt water, and clean skin tucked into furs on a cool night. Even as a child, with her pup-sweet smell, she smelled of the water, of motion, of a barely contained fierceness. 

“I say this with all the love in the world,” she whispers. “But you need to get over yourself.” 

Sokka barks out a laugh, short and harsh, and then he cannot stop. He is laughing, and they are laughing together. How long has it been since they laughed like kids? How long has it been since they were allowed to be kids? 

Katara pulls back, holds his face in her palms like their mom used to. This is the only way he remembers their Oma now - through gestures and scents, through moments of seeing double in the angles of passing womens’ cheeks. He cannot remember her face clearly anymore, but she is everywhere to him. 

“You,” Katara says quietly, “are too brilliant to be kept by the Tribes. You’re an inventor, an engineer, a mastermind. Who knows what good you can do in the world? If the Southern Tribes aren’t big enough for you, then they aren’t big enough. I highly doubt the rest of the world will turn you away. And as for Zuko?” She quirks her eyebrow. “He seems pretty gone on you. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so sure he’s ready to throw you in the woodpile.” 

“He’s gonna be Fire Lord,” Sokka insists through squished cheeks. 

“And Fire Lords have mates, don’t they?” Katara rolls her eyes. “One of these days, we’re going to get it through your abnormally thick skull that you are loved and valued; that we _want_ you around and are willing to actively make time to be with you. It will take all of our combined efforts, but I’m sure we can manage.” 

She pushes him away gently. “Now get back to work. We have clothes to mend.” 

Sokka picks his needle from the tall summer grasses, slowly rethreads it. “Whatever you say, Chief.” 

Katara sighs luxuriously. “Music to my ears.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized this is the first long fic I've written without song inspiration. I don't know how to feel about that. 
> 
> Next chapter is the end of the plot!!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka wakes as Zuko slips out of their bed roll. He’s disoriented for a moment, unsure of the day or time, before his brain snaps into place. Zuko does not urge him back to sleep as he usually does. Instead his eyes are big and dark with fear as they take each other in. Three braids hang over his good eye, the rest hanging past his shoulders and tucked behind his ears. His scent is thick with fear, but there’s a hotter sweetness under it, that same heaviness that has been teasing Sokka’s nose for weeks finally coming into fruition.  
> “You’re in season.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter of plot! After this, there's a bonus sexy-time chapter that was actually cut from the original chapter four (but I felt would be fun to include anyways).

“I’m sorry.” The whole pack looks up from their food. Zuko flushes with all eyes on him but the set of his jaw is determined. He places his food carefully on the ground, tugs at his clothes, before finally continuing. “I owe an apology to everyone, but especially to Aang. I was wrong.” 

Aang seems as surprised as the rest of them, head cocking to the side in confusion. “Wrong about what?” 

“I was wrong to force you to fight today, and wrong to insist that you kill Ozai. I know what it’s like to have an impossible task placed on your shoulders, and I should know better than to force you into those same shoes.” 

“But, you didn’t force him into those shoes.” Suki waves her chopsticks in the heavy air, swirling them loosely. “The Spirits did. Or, however it works with Avatars. Aang is the only person who can take Ozai out.” 

“No he isn’t.” 

“Zuko, I’m pretty sure I am.” 

“No, _listen to me_ .” Zuko huffs, runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “It shouldn’t be the responsibility of a child to take down a war-mongering, imperialist maniac. And frankly, it doesn’t have to be. We’ve all convinced ourselves that it has to be you, that you’re the only one who can do it. And I’m not saying that you _can’t_ do it. I’m saying you aren’t the _only_ one who can do it. If the Northern Water Tribe weren’t a neutral party, and the Earth Kingdom consolidated all their private armies and actually worked with the Southern Water Tribe sailors instead of sabotaging them, this war could have been over half a century ago.” 

“So you’re saying this war _isn’t_ the Fire Nation’s fault?” Katara looks halfway between abject confusion and wanting to fight Zuko with her bare hands. 

“No! Not at all! This is totally the Fire Nation’s fault - Sozin’s fault in particular! But Aang isn’t the only person who could have stopped this war. And frankly, it’s going to take more than Aang to _end_ it. Ozai is just one person - a person that anyone, with the right training, could take out. There’s an entire military mobilized across the planet, and Aang can’t be everywhere at once. 

“This responsibility should never have been on your shoulders alone, Aang. And I should _know_ that. Instead of urging you to fight, I should have--” Another frustrated sigh, this time with a growl underneath it. “Look, refusing to fight my father saved my life.” 

A punishing silence follows Zuko’s words. Suki and Katara look at him with horror. Toph’s brows are furrowed as she presses her hands to the soil beneath them. Aang’s expression is slowly opening with a dawning, painful understanding, and Sokka isn’t sure he remembers how to breathe. 

“It’s-- it’s not _fine_ , but I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuko finally says. “I’m just saying that there’s no dishonour in living to see another day. Even though the world is telling you that you need to fight and kill Ozai, _I’m_ telling you that I will understand if you choose not to.” 

Aang takes in Zuko across the fire with more seriousness than Sokka has ever seen. “Zuko, I appreciate that. But defeating Firelord Ozai and restoring balance to the world _is_ my destiny.” 

“Destiny is bullshit. It’s a big word that doesn’t mean much of anything because your destiny is yours to decide. Your destiny is carved every day by what you choose to do and what you choose to avoid. It isn’t some prophecy set in stone that you’re completely unable to change. It’s _yours_ , Aang. My destiny has changed, what--” he pauses to count quickly on his fingers, “Six times? In the last four years? Destinies change as we change. You don’t have to fight or kill Ozai - not if it’s going to destroy you in the process.” 

Aang looks at him hard, scent far too complicated for Sokka to make sense of. Then he launches himself over the fire and directly into Zuko’s arms. Zuko’s expression is the definition of shock as Aang burrows into him. Carefully, he closes his arms around Aang’s body, cradles the airebender’s head like he’s a pup. _He is a pup_ , Sokka thinks blankly. _He’s a pup, and we’ve been training him for murder_. Guilt floods him, slicing and deep, like water carving a ravine in his chest. 

Sokka places his food on the ground and kneels up to hug both Aang and Zuko at the same time. Katara is next to join them, her face squished between Aang’s shoulder and Sokka’s neck. Suki joins from the other side, her fingers meeting and twining with Katara’s behind Sokka’s back. Toph is last to arrive, holding Zuko from behind and slipping her arms between Sokka’s stomach and Aang’s back. 

They don’t speak, and truly there are no words to be said. They can only breathe together, finding something close to peace, as the world spins and burns around them. 

{}

Sokka wakes as Zuko slips out of their bed roll. He’s disoriented for a moment, unsure of the day or time, before his brain snaps into place. Zuko does not urge him back to sleep as he usually does. Instead his eyes are big and dark with fear as they take each other in. Three braids hang over his good eye, the rest hanging past his shoulders and tucked behind his ears. His scent is thick with fear, but there’s a hotter sweetness under it, that same heaviness that has been teasing Sokka’s nose for weeks finally coming into fruition. 

“You’re in season.” 

Zuko licks his lips. “Not quite yet,” he corrects softly. “I’ve got about twelve hours before my heat starts in earnest.” 

“Can you-- Are you going to be alright?” Sokka doesn’t know why he’s asking. Zuko doesn’t have a choice. The comet will be passing over the Fire Nation in a few hours, and Zuko will either be there to fight Azula or Aang’s efforts against the Fire Lord will be useless - assuming Aang appears in the first place. 

Nevertheless, Zuko nods his head. “Are you?” Sokka nods. He sits up, blinks away the braids that adorn his own hair as they swing toward his face. 

Zuko pushes them back behind Sokka’s ears. His eyes well with tears but they do not fall. He blinks them away, offers a tremulous smile. “I love you.” 

Sokka cannot stop the tremble in his voice, but he pushes a smile to his lips as well. “I love you too, Sunshine.” 

Zuko is first to leave the tent, pressing a firm kiss to Sokka’s lips, then his mating gland before he goes. Sokka takes a moment to compose himself, checking uselessly over their supplies, before he works up the nerve to face the watery light of day himself. 

Katara is waiting in front of the tent, back in her Water Tribe blues. Her eyes widen as they take in the braids hanging from his wolf-tail, nose twitching as the combined _Sokka-Zuko-sex-_ **_love_ ** wafts from the open flap of their tent. 

“You exchanged braids.” 

Sokka nods. “We did.” 

Then Katara’s arms are tight around his neck, her face warm on his shoulder as she holds him tight. He returns the hug just as fiercely, desperately aware that this could be the last time he holds her. 

“I’m so proud of you, Sokka,” she whispers. “Congratulations.”

This time, Sokka does not bother trying to hold back his tears. He simply returns the sentiment, holds his baby sister tight in his arms. 

When she finally pulls away, they are both flush with emotion. “C’mon,” she says, offering a small smile. “There’s breakfast waiting for us.” 

Sokka listens with half an ear as they cover plans for the day of attack, his attention split between watching Zuko and thinking about Aang. Iroh’s refusal to take the throne snaps him back to attention. He reaches out, grips Zuko’s hand in his own as bitter disappointment floods to Omega’s scent. Iroh reaches out, lays a fatherly hand on Zuko’s unscarred cheek. “It must be you, Nephew,” he insists quietly. “You must be the one to restore balance to the Fire Nation, and help Aang restore peace to the world.” 

Zuko’s words about destiny come back to Sokka. This shouldn’t be Zuko’s destiny. It should be his responsibility. But here he is. Here they all are. 

Time speeds by again as they pack and distribute food and water amongst each other. Zuko catches him in a fierce hug, the heaviness of his scent deeper and richer than before. Sokka buries his face in Zuko’s hair, forces himself to memorize the feeling of Zuko’s body pressed to his own. 

Zuko rises to his toes and fits his teeth to Sokka’s mating gland. He does not bite down, but even the suggestion is enough to make Sokka’s heart fly up to his mouth. Slowly, still afraid of spooking Zuko in some recess of his mind, he bends down to do the same. Some of the tension in Zuko’s shoulders leaks out of him. They stand there for long minutes, just holding one another and breathing in the warming summer air. Finally, Zuko pulls away. 

He holds Sokka’s face between his hands, pulls Sokka down to look him squarely in the eye. His expression is hard, stern. “This isn’t goodbye,” he insists. “I swear to all the Spirits, Sokka, this better not be goodbye.” His voice cracks on the last word, fingers tightening to bring Sokka even closer. 

Sokka reaches up, massages the scent glands on Zuko’s wrist with his thumbs, marking himself with his Omega’s scent. “This isn’t goodbye,” he agrees. “I’ll see you again.” _Even in the spirit world_ , he thinks. _In another universe. In another life. I’ll see you again_. He can’t bear to say all that - knows he won’t let go of Zuko if he does. 

When they are finally mounted on their respective transportation, going separate directions, Sokka looks deeply in Zuko’s eyes. He does not let go of the reins, grips them tighter, fears that this will be the last time he looks at Zuko ever again. 

Zuko nods stiffly. Sokka does the same. Without a backward glance, Zuko urges Appa into the air, taking his cinnamon sweet scent with him. Sokka watches them disappear into the sky. 

{}

His dad is standing at the entrance to the hallway, Water Tribe blues a stark contrast to the reds of the Fire Nation palace. Sokka snarls before he can stop himself, his hindbrain seeing _Alpha_ and thinking _threat_ before seeing _Dad_ and thinking _relief_. He bites down on the sound, has the grace to look away when Hakoda raises an eyebrow at him. 

Thankfully, Hakoda does not attempt to sit beside him, but instead slides down to sit on the floor across the hall. Other than scrunching his nose and sniffing sharply, he does not mention the heat smell clinging to Sokka’s clothes and seeping into the air around them through the door. They eye each other for a few long minutes, neither commenting on the muffled sounds filtering through the door. Finally, Hakoda breaks the silence. 

“Y’know, it would have been nice to know that your Fire Nation boy was actually the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. Imagine my surprise when I make my way from Ba Sing Se to Caldera, only to find that my children were holed up in the palace.” 

Sokka blinks slowly, trying to comprehend what his father has just said. “You didn’t _know_?” 

Hakoda shrugs. “No. But then, I wasn’t exactly expecting my son to break me out of prison, so why not add another surprise in the mix. Why _was_ he in prison, anyway?” 

“He wasn’t _in prison_ , Dad. Well-- I mean, he kinda was? Mostly he wasn’t. We broke into the prison and initially we were disguised as guards. But then Zuko had to attack a real guard to protect me while I was in a cell with Suki telling her the plan, so he was arrested for being an imposter. So then he was actually in prison for a while, but then we broke him out and started to get away. In the end I didn’t want to leave without you and you hadn’t arrived at the prison yet. So we decided to stay and Zuko went back to being a prisoner. But then the prison warden was his ex-girlfriend’s uncle? I didn’t know about this until later, but apparently the warden immediately recognized him as the banished Prince and he was going to be hanged for treason. But then we busted him out, and you as well!” 

Hakoda levels him with a blank look. He blinks a few times, then buries his head in his hands. “I should never have left you and your sister unsupervised.” 

Sokka shrugs. He doesn’t want to touch that line of conversation with a ten-foot spear. “Yeah, well. It worked out okay in the end.” 

“Next time, do me a favour and don’t break into a high-security prison in the first place.” 

Sokka just shrugs again, hesitantly flexing and straightening his bad leg. Katara did her best to heal it, but it will take a while before the joint was back to normal. “It’s fine,” he says eventually. “Hardly our first Fire Nation prison.” 

Hakoda flashes a well-practiced _what the actual fuck_ expression before shaking his head. “I’m choosing to preserve my sanity and not ask why you were in other Fire Nation prisons.” 

“Probably for the best.” 

The silence sits for a while, broken only by a stuttered gasp from inside the room. Sokka flexes his fingers, wishing he had something to do to pass the time other than sit here and listen to his O in season. 

“You exchanged braids.” Hakoda’s expression is suspiciously neutral, but there’s something building in his scent. 

“We did.” 

“That’s-- What’s your plan, Sokka? He’s the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. You’re from the Southern Water Tribe. How is that going to work?” 

The fear in Hakoda’s scent is stronger now, blending with his anger but clashing with the heavy, sweet scent of Zuko’s season. Sokka can feel his own hackles rising in response, his spine straightening, chin dropping. 

“What question are you really asking?” Sokka fights to keep his voice even, neutral, even as his frustration spikes. “Because somehow I don’t think you actually care all that much about the logistics.” 

“How-- Sokka.” A patronising expression takes over Hakoda’s face. “This is irrational, and you know it.” 

“You’re more than welcome to think it’s irrational. I’m not asking for you permission, and I’m not seeking your approval. I know who I exchanged braids with, and I’m not undoing them.” 

“You’re both _children_ , Sokka.” 

Sokka has to cough out a laugh so he doesn’t scream. “If you still think that I am a child then you fundamentally misunderstand the impact of this war. Katara became a woman the moment Mom was taken. I became a man the second your ship crossed the horizon. We haven’t been allowed to be children for years. You couldn’t possibly know or understand the things we’ve seen, how close to death we’ve all already come. 

“I’m not in there with Zuko because caught a bolt of lightning meant for Katara with his _chest_ , and he’s too weak to withstand a partnered season. I nearly plummeted to my death off a Fire Nation airship less than two days ago. I am a master swordsman, strategist, and inventor. I have led battles, lost friends, and found a Pack and a Bondmate. You do not get to tell me that I am a child, Alpha Hakoda. Not anymore.” 

Hakoda opens and closes his mouth for a few beats, loss and fear warring in his eyes and scent. Finally he looks down at his lap, hands grasping at nothing. His own braids, six of them, swing in front of his face. “I forget sometimes,” Hakoda begins roughly, “how much of your lives I’ve missed. I look at you, both of you, and I still see the pups I left behind. I keep forgetting I can’t just pick up where I left off.” 

Sokka considers what he can say that is not an attack. He cannot come up with anything. Eventually he offers, “After the coronation, we’re returning to the Southern Water Tribes. I can only for a few weeks - a month at the outermost limit. Katara will be staying for longer.” 

Hakoda nods, still looking at his hands. “Then you’ll return?” 

“Then we’ll return.” 

Hakoda coughs out a sound that could be a laugh or a sob. “And what then? You’ll be a pet of the Fire Lord?” 

Sokka sighs heavily. “If you’re determined to hate our bonding, just say so.” 

“I’m not-- I don’t hate the bonding, Sokka. I just-- I just don’t want to lose you.” 

_You’ve already done that_ , Sokka thinks. Outloud, he says, “I’ll be a messenger hawk away. Or a fortnight's sailing.” 

“That’s not the same as having you home.” 

There isn’t even a sound from Zuko’s chambers to cut the silence. The two Alphas stare at one another, desperately scrabbling for common ground in the quiet of their minds. Hakoda nods stiffly, flexes his fingers to pop his knuckles. “Why does every conversation we have end in a fight,” he asks ruefully. 

Sokka forces out a short, humourless laugh. “Growing pains, I guess.” 

“Growing pains,” Hakoda echoes softly. “Why return to the South Pole? If you’re only going to be there for a few days?” 

“To bond. Zuko wants to keep with Southern Water Tribes tradition, especially since I’ll spend most of my time in the Fire Nation after that. We’d hoped you would anoint us,” he admits quietly. “I’ll send a messenger hawk; ask Bato.” 

“I’ll do it.” Hakoda meets his gaze evenly. “I-- I’ve missed out on a lot of your life, Sokka. I don’t want to miss one of the happiest moments of it. If you’re certain the Prince--” 

“Zuko.” 

“If you’re certain _Zuko_ is who you want to spend the rest of your life with - and I get the sense you are… Son, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Sokka takes a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed. “Thank you.” 

Before Hakoda can respond, the door is cracking open. Zuko stands in the doorway, skin faintly shimmering in the torchlight. Water clings to his eyelashes from the bath, and his hair is looped into a messy topknot, braids hanging loose around his face. He startles upon seeing Hakoda sitting across the hall, pulling his robe tighter to his body and crossing a defensive arm across his chest. He sketches an awkward, one-handed bow as Sokka clambers to his feet. “Chief Hakoda,” he says softly. 

“Prince Zuko.” 

Zuko waves his free hand dismissively. “Just Zuko is fine.” 

“Then I insist you call me Hakoda.” 

Zuko nods, looking to Sokka briefly for guidance before returning his gaze to Hakoda. “Of course. It’s good to see you again, Hakoda. I trust you made it safely to Ba Sing Se from the Western Air Temple?” 

“Yes! We were able to rendezvous with the-- with a group there and aid in the liberation of the city.” 

Zuko quirks a smile. “I’m familiar with the efforts of the White Lotus, yes. I’d love to talk more but I really just came to-- well. I came to get Sokka.” 

Despite his shock, Hakoda gracefully gestures into the dark of Zuko’s room behind him. “I’ll leave you two be. Well have time to talk before the bonding ceremony.” 

Zuko’s expression opens with delight. He looks to Sokka for confirmation, a broad smile growing on his lips. He looks down, tries to smother it by pressing his lips together, but the scent of his joy has ballooned to fill the hallway. 

“I-- Thank you, Hakoda. Your blessing means everything to us. To me. I-- I wanted to talk to someone knowledgeable with the ins and outs of the bonding ceremony about incorporating Uncle into the proceedings? He desperately wants to be involved and I have no idea how to make that work. So if I could find a time after my, uh-- after my heat is passed to speak with you about that, that would be-- I would really appreciate that.” 

Hakoda seems vaguely pleased if baffled by a Fire Prince in the middle of his season planning a bonding ceremony. “I’m sure we can find time. My schedule is conveniently open these days.” 

“Great! I really appreciate it. Uhm.” He looks to Sokka, shifting towards him with a vaguely desperate expression. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Dad. I think Katara is in the South Wing with Iroh and Aang.” 

Hakoda is already on his feet. He sketches a quick bow for Zuko then walks away. 

Zuko’s eyes are searching as they meet Sokka’s gaze. He reaches out a hand to rest against the side of Sokka’s face. “Everything alright? You smell ready to start a fist fight.” 

Sokka turns to press a kiss into the center of Zuko’s palm, urging him into the dark room with two hands on the Omega’s hips. “We cleared some air. I’ll tell you later. For now, I want to feed you frozen grapes and talk shit about Aang’s past lives.” 

Zuko snorts a laugh and follows him deeper into the dark. 

{}

Zuko stretches in Sokka’s arms, shifting languidly against their furs. That lush, pine scent of satisfaction melds perfectly with the loam and honey of slaked arousal. It’s deep in their bed clothes now, soaked into each hair and every fiber. They dozed off an unknown amount of time before, but Zuko’s sprawl has brought Sokka into fuller alertness. The Omega sighs deeply, nuzzling his nose into the skin around Sokka’s bonding bite. 

“Proud of yourself?” Sokka’s voice is rough with sleep and good use earlier in the evening. 

Zuko humms, tightening his arms around Sokka’s waist. A few of his fingers stroke the sensitive skin of Sokka’s lower back, sending shivers across Sokka’s body. “Very proud,” he rasps. “Also very sticky.” 

Sokka laughs. “Luckily, there’s a basin for us. Katara even got us Spirit Water from the North Pole.” 

“Is Spirit Water better for cleaning seed?” 

“Ha! Probably not, but I think the Fire Sages would have an aneurysm if you had anything else.” 

“Ugh. No talking about Fire Sages in our mating igloo. It’s strictly forbidden.” Zuko rolls away, leaning over as far as he can to tug the stone bowl closer to them. “Oh! Look what Aang did!” 

Sokka pushes up to kneel behind Zuko, wrapping him up and resting his head on the O’s shoulder. “Oh, wow.” He dips a single finger into the water, runs it over the design, careful not to disturb the water too much. 

When Sokka explained to their friends that there were some traditional gifts involved in a Southern Water Tribe bonding ceremony, they were thrilled to contribute. Aang and Toph, in particular, were eager to use earthbending to provide perfectly carved bonding necklaces and basins. Privately, Sokka thought the use of bending was cheating, but he didn’t have the heart to discourage their enthusiasm. 

Aang quickly took over the creation of the basin, scouting the South Pole for weeks to find the perfect slab of stone. He’s put a beautiful, detailed flame at the center of the basin, with a sword directly at its heart, like the wick of a candle. Below the flame are two swords, crossed at their hilt and providing the base of the design. It’s simple - elegant. 

“It’s perfect,” Zuko unknowingly echoes. 

Sokka can only nod, press a kiss to Zuko’s neck. “One last ritual,” he says quietly. “Then it will be official.” They’ve talked about this briefly. The other two felt more important, if only because they were more public. Being anointed, exchanging mating necklaces - those were outward displays of devotion. This is far more intimate. 

Sokka feels the skin of Zuko’s throat shift beneath his lips as he swallows. Then he’s nodding and carefully lifting the bowl and turning on his knees. He places the bowl carefully between them. “I want to go first.” Zuko’s voice is quiet, determined. “Please. I’d like to go first.” 

“Of course.” Sokka reaches to the small shelf in the igloo wall and lifts a cloth of beautifully woven fabric. As he unfolds it, the flame and swords make themselves known again, this time in beautiful colours. A sea of blues, yellows, purples, reds, greens, and oranges form the flame, while detailed use of greys and blacks make up the beautifully designed swords. A small fan in the corner marks it as a product of Kyoshi Island. Zuko reaches out a trembling hand, traces the edges of the flame. 

“The dragons,” Zuko whispers. He pins Sokka with a hard look. “You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. But-- do you remember the Sun Warriors? Aang and I went to the remains of their capital city back when I first arrived at the Eastern Air Temple.” With Sokka’s nod, Zuko takes the cloth gently in his hands. “Well, the Sun Warriors aren’t gone. They’re still there, living in the capital city. The culture is alive and well. And two dragons still live in the mountains above them. 

“In the Fire Nation, we’re told as children that the Sun God blessed us with fire. Then the Sun God gave the Spirit of the Sun and the Spirit of the Flame to two dragons. Sozin made it a sport of hunting dragons, in the hopes of besting either the Sun Spirit or the Flame Spirit and taking the power for yourself. I was told that Uncle killed the last Dragon, making him the Dragon of the West. But there were two dragons there, with the Sun Warriors. And they judged Aang and I worthy. When they showed us true firebending, the fire - it looked like this. There were so many different colours, shades I’ve never seen before and could never describe.” 

“Zuko, that’s-- that’s incredible.” 

Zuko just nods mutely, looking down at the cloth in his hands. Then he folds it gently, dips the folded corner in the water. 

“The root of firebending is life. Fire is a life force.” He runs the cool water across Sokka’s forehead, down his cheeks. “It is fed by breath, just as we are. It keeps us warm in the night.” The cloth is dipped again in the water, drawn gently down each side of Sokka’s neck, circling his fresh bite with tender care. “It cooks our food so we don’t get sick. It is capable of great damage, but also of great good. A forest that never burns is a tinderbox. But a forest of small fires is a forest protected from a destructive blaze.” 

Refreshed, the cloth is drawn across Sokka’s collar bones. “In short, fire is like love. Love can hurt people, and lead them to destroy. But it is also a life force. A parent loves a child. An eldest child loves a youngest. A neighbor loves their friend. A commander loves their soldiers. A monarch loves their nation. I love you.” He runs the cloth down Sokka’s right arm, dipping into the webs of his fingers, gentling over his scent glands, then treats his left arm to the same diligent care. 

“I vow to love you with every breath. I will tend to you when you are sick. I will support you when you are weak.” The cloth runs down his chest, carefully seeking out each fold and crease. “I will hold you when you are tired. I will mend you when you are broken.” Zuko’s touch is gentle as he carefully cleans Sokka’s member and stones. “I promise to be true to you, in all that I am. I promise to be honest in every answer.” He dips the cloth a final time, running it over the tops of each thigh. “I will do my best to not let my temper get the best of me, but I make absolutely zero promises on that count.” 

Sokka chokes out a laugh, overcome with emotion. He takes the cloth from Zuko’s hands. As he opens and refolds it to a clean section, reviewing the speech he wrote so long ago. 

Carefully, he makes his first dip into the water. “I think it’s fairly safe to say we’ve never done anything by the book. At our first meeting, we were on opposite sides of a century-long war. Now, we’re bondmates.” He begins with Zuko’s hands, running the cloth carefully along each crease, between each finger. “I know this day isn’t exactly what we planned. For one thing, it’s about two years later than we anticipated. For another, the entire world invited themselves.” Another dip, then he is tending to each armand shoulder. “But I have to admit, I forgot about everyone but you the second I saw you. You are everything to me.” He traces the line of Zuko’s collarbones, exploring Zuko's neck, delicate around the reddened skin of his mating bite. 

“You are one of the bravest people I know. You inspire me every day with your attention to detail, your love for your nation, your care for each citizen’s smallest need.” He bathes the planes of Zuko’s face, applying the barest pressure to the delicate skin of his scar. “Your sensitivity and kindness blow me away. You have learned from your past, and stand tall in the face of ignorance and hatred. You are the epitome of goodness.” He dips once more, beginning at the top of Zuko’s chest and drawing the cloth carefully down each breast, gentle with his flushed nipples. “I know that I am a candle to your sun. I am the night sky to your stars. Without you, my world is a dark void. With you, _because of_ you, I’ve found direction, strength.” He moves down to Zuko’s stomach, scrubbing lightly where patches of fluid got caught in body hair. Zuko laughs, tickled, and Sokka is helpless against the mirroring chuckle that rises in his throat. 

“More than that - you’ve shown me what it is to be vulnerable. You’ve shown me that being frustrated means what you’re doing is worth doing. You have taught me that failure is a gift, and each fall is an opportunity to get back to my feet.” He is careful with Zuko’s member, aware of how sensitive it is. He urges Zuko to stand on his knees as he submerges the cloth completely. He rings the cloth out, carefully cleans Zuko’s pubic hair and lips. “I love you,” he says as Zuko sits back down. “In every life. In every universe. In every form. I love you and I am yours. That will never change.” 

The silence that follows isn’t heavy - it isn’t even silence. Sokka wasn’t joking when he said the world invited itself to their bonding ceremony. Even now, deep in the night, celebrations are still going. Thankfully, their mating igloo is far away enough that the shouting and music are a faint heartbeat in the dark. Zuko reaches out to run his fingers carefully over Sokka’s three braids. Sokka returns the gesture. Then Zuko is smiling tremulously. “I really have to pee, but I don’t want you to watch me do it.” 

They laugh until they cannot breathe. Later, Zuko will pull on his house boots and pee in the urn in the corner, and Sokka will dutifully close his eyes and plug his ears. Later, Zuko will convince Sokka to dump their basin water out front, insisting that dirty Spirit Water is still dirty water. Sokka will braid Zuko’s hair into two long plaits and Zuko will carefully comb Sokka’s hair and wrap it in a neat bun. They will re-tie their bonding necklaces for one another. Sokka will pull Zuko’s small body into his own, bury his head in Zuko’s cinnamon sweet hair, and thank the blessed stars that Toph and Teo, of all people, brought Zuko into his life. But that's all later. For now, they laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading!! i really appreciate you sticking with me to the end of the story! feel free to leave off here. 
> 
> the next chapter is a bonus sex scene that takes place the night before Sozin's Comet. in it we pop Sokka's 'cherry' and generally feel good about our bodies and sexual experience, as well as enthusiastically consent, check in with our partners, and communicate what we need and want! i'll see you there!


	5. Bonus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's one more thing Zuko wants before the comet: to love Sokka on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here be the explicit sexual content! in cannon, both of these characters are cultural adults. by that, i mean that sokka went ice dodging and zuko presented, which makes them both adults in the eyes of those around them. in the real world that we live in, neither of them are eighteen. this section isn't technically part of the plot so i didn't use archive warnings, but i did tag underage sex. have fun! hopefully my sex-writing abilities have gotten better!

Zuko crawls into his tent smelling of mingled grief and hope. Sokka looks up from the scrolls spread across the floor. Zuko does not stop, doesn’t even glance at the wet ink, or the parchment, or any of it. He just crawls into Sokka’s lap, wraps around him like an octopus and buries his face in Sokka’s neck. 

“Hey, hey, everything okay, Sunshine?” 

Zuko inhales deeply, presses a kiss to Sokka’s mating gland. “I want you to-- I--.” He pauses, pulls back just enough to look into Sokka’s eyes. “Can we make love? Please?” 

A million thoughts run through Sokka’s head, shock and arousal and fear lancing through him. He tries to slow the swirl, tries to find some sense of balance in it all. His forehead find’s Zuko’s unerringly. “You weren’t sure just a few nights ago,” he finally decides upon saying. “What’s changed?” 

Zuko worries his bottom lip. Sokka wants to worry it for him, but refrains. This is a serious conversation, something that needs time and attention. After a long pause, Zuko speaks up. “Either of us could die tomorrow.” 

The words bowl through Sokka. He knew, intellectually, that tomorrow could be the end of him. He knew that he was risking his life, that his friends had agreed to risk their lives as well. But the idea that Zuko, sweet, sensitive, small, bold as brass  _ Zuko _ might simply cease to exist, that he might have to burn--. He squeezes Zuko’s waist. “Any other words of encouragement?” 

Zuko tries to smile, falters. “What we have-- what I feel for you-- I’ve never felt this way before. I trust you, and I want you, and-- and I--.” Zuko gives up on being brave, dives for Sokka’s throat, curls tighter around Sokka like that might hide him from himself, from his own awkwardness. Sokka takes on the mantle, wraps himself around Zuko in turn, strokes his back and his hair until he’s ready. “I can see myself building a life with you,” Zuko whispers. “And that… that scares the shit out of me, okay? I’m-- I’m not used to people wanting me, much less wanting to stay. I’m not used to people telling me, outright, that I matter to them. And, I know that I’m not the ideal Omega, and that I’m probably majorly fucked up in the head, but--” 

Sokka pulls Zuko from his hiding spot, holds his face in his hands, stares deeply into his honey brown eye. “Stop that. Stop that right now.” He gives Zuko a gentle shake. “Stop telling me that you aren’t the ideal Omega, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. I don’t give a sea rat’s ass about someone else’s ideal. You are-- Spirits, Zuko, I don’t even have the fucking words, and having words is literally what people keep me around for. You are strength, and courage, and beauty personified. You make me stronger, and wiser. You’ve taught me so much about friendship, and family, and kindness, and love, and I-- I honestly couldn’t care about someone else’s bullshit ideas of what a good Omega should be. I want you, by my side, fighting and living and loving just as hard as I am. I don’t care if you’re ‘majorly fucked in the head’ ‘cause I am too. Stop telling me I shouldn’t care about you. I’m going to keep caring about you, and I’m going to keep telling you, outright, to your face, that you matter to me, right up until you tell me that you don’t want me anymore.” Zuko’s eyes grow shiny, welling up and spilling over. His cheeks are flushed, the press of emotions pushing blood to his skin. Sokka gently wipes the tears away, smooths his fingers over skin and scar alike. “I want you. Of course I do. Spirits, Zuko, I would be honored to make love to you,  _ with _ you. But I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you have to, or like you owe it to me.” 

“NO!” Then, quieter, “No.” He brings his own hands up to mirror Sokka’s. Spirits, Sokka will never recover from how tentative Zuko can be with him, when it’s just them and he feels safe enough to be hesitant and shy, showing his soft underbelly. “No, that isn’t why at all. I just-- I want to have this with you. I want to share myself with you. I don’t want to die knowing that I had the chance and I didn’t give all of myself to you. I want to… to care about you on purpose. Not because we rushed into it, or because it just happened. I want to--.” He pauses, closes his eyes and braces himself. “I want to love you on purpose.  _ Please _ , can we love each other on purpose tonight?” 

Sokka has to press his eyes closed, breathe through the onslaught of emotion that Zuko has just brought on. Spirits around, how could he possibly say no to this, to Zuko? “Yes,” he says. “Let’s love each other on purpose.” 

They start as they’ve always started - holding one another. Hands finding new places to rest, lips seeking and sharing. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of need with Zuko. He is sweet, and shy, but hungry for it, for  _ Sokka _ all at the same time. Everything about him is intoxicating - the way he kisses, the way he pulls at Sokka’s hair-- wait. 

“Wait. Zuko, wait.” 

Zuko pulls back, eyes unfocused and unsure. Sokka smiles, runs his hands through Zuko’s hair, now sitting on his shoulders. “There’s-- there’s something I want to share with you.” 

“Okay?” 

“In the Southern Water Tribes, before the-- before the  _ bonding _ , there’s a whole bunch of betrothal rituals.” Zuko flushes but nods, a pleased note rising in his scent. “But there’s only one that we can do here and now. The mates are meant to exchange braids. Usually, there’s one for each new moon they’ve seen together while courting - three total. The idea is that you’ve seen the darkest night together, and you’re still committed.” He cracks a small smile. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve seen our fair share of darkest nights.” 

Zuko coughs out a small laugh. “You aren’t wrong.” 

“So, I know you’re from the Fire Nation and probably have your own mating rituals but--” 

“I want to do it.” Zuko’s voice is quiet but determined. “I want to exchange braids with you.” 

“Okay.” Sokka cracks a nervous smile, toothy and awkward. Zuko returns it. 

“Okay.” 

They sit in quiet intimacy, braiding one another’s hair. Sokka regrets that he didn’t have more time to practice his braids, make them beautiful and sturdy for Zuko. But he’s here now, and his best will have to do. Zuko’s hair is slippery, the texture familiar and foreign at once. From Zuko’s expression, he’s having a similar experience with Sokka’s hair. Zuko doesn’t know this, but it’s tradition to place the braids on your betrothed’s left side. But Sokka is selfish and wants Zuko to be able to see the braids, remember who put them in his hair, who he has committed to through their darkest nights. 

“Are there any Fire Nation mating rituals?” 

Zuko shrugs. “There are elaborate feasts, expensive gifts, long chaperoned walks where you’re expected to talk about everything under the sun without ever touching on anything important.” He shrugs again, face crumpling in distaste. “It’s not that the traditions don’t have meaning and value. They do. I just-- I don’t know. I like this too.” 

Sokka eases the three braids into knots at the bottom, securing them without the usual ties and beads that would adorn them. He touches the braids gently, feels Zuko mimic the gesture. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits. “I’ve never made love to someone.” 

Zuko bites his lip, looks away. “I have.” 

“With Mai?” 

A timid nod. 

“Good. I’m glad one of us knows what they’re doing.” 

Zuko laughs, his shoulders losing the tightness “You don’t mind?” 

“If you don’t, then I don’t. Honestly, I’m kind of glad? I know it’s weird to say, but as long as it wasn’t horrifically traumatic for you, I’m glad that you’ve had the experience. I’m glad I’m not just the first Alpha you stumbled on and decided, ‘Hey, I don’t want to die without having sex’. Choosing one another - loving each other on purpose, right?” He shrugs, feeling awkward and exposed. “You don’t mind that I’ve never-- y’know. Done the do?” 

Zuko leans in, kisses him sweetly. “I don’t care.” His breath is warm against Sokka’s lips, the sort of tease he never would have imagined without Zuko. “Is it weird to say that I like it? Like knowing that I have something nobody else has?” 

Spirits, Zuko is going to end this before it even begins. His possessiveness pushes a bolt of electric arousal through Sokka. “No. Not weird at all.” And then they’re kissing, lips roaming down necks, hands caressing skin everywhere they find it. Sokka might be imagining things, but he thinks it really is better this time; deeper and fuller somehow. They’re choosing one another. They’re committed to one another. They’re here, and they’re deciding that this will be their time. 

Sokka wishes they had the time and space to do this right. He wishes he could have built their mating igloo with his own two hands, draped the walls and floors in the softest, finest furs, been anointed in the purest oils. He vows to himself that if--  _ when _ they survive this war, he’s dragging Zuko down to the South Pole to do this properly. The Fire Nation can spare their prince for three days, or they can kiss Sokka’s brown ass. 

Zuko pushes Sokka gently onto his bed roll, looking at him intently for a few moments. Then, without much preamble, he twists, unties his shirt. Another smooth motion, and his breast binding is coming undone in ropes of fabric. His chest is bared to Sokka, pale but quickly flushing pink as Zuko squirms with embarrassment. Sokka swallows thickly, tries to find some self control. 

“Wow,” he sighs, reaching out a single hand. When he isn’t turned away, he rests his palm against the curve of Zuko’s ribs. Carefully, watching Zuko’s face the whole while, he drags his hand up to curve around the full lower swell of Zuko’s breast. His thumb skirts a pale nipple, and Zuko’s squirms in a decidedly different way. His scent, already rich and earthy, grows more intense. “Yeah?” 

Zuko nods hurriedly, arching his back to push his chest into Sokka’s hand. He takes Sokka’s free hand in his own, pulls it to his other breast. 

“Careful, okay? Gentle.” 

“Okay. I can be gentle. Can I-- Here. Lay down.” 

They’re soon swapping positions, laughing at the absurdity of doing this in a small tent outside the walls of Ba Sing Se the day before the biggest battle in either of their lifetimes. Before Sokka can dwell on that too deeply, he leans down, gives into the urge to press his mouth to Zuko’s chest. The sweetest sound of pleasure emerges from Zuko’s lips, muffled quickly by Zuko stuffing a hand between his teeth. Sokka makes another vow to himself to make their mating igloo far away from the rest of the tribe so Zuko can make all the noise he wants. Zuko grabs Sokka’s hand once more, this time with no obvious purpose other than to anchor himself. 

Soon, Zuko’s hand is in his hair, pulling him off one nipple to shift him to the other. Sokka goes willingly, happy for some guidance. Zuko’s body is a feast, but Sokka isn’t entirely sure how to eat the food. Tui and  _ La _ , less metaphors, more focusing on Zuko - Zuko’s skin, his scent, his sounds, his squirms and arches as Sokka tries different things, learns what brings on those sweet sounds and what fails to illicit anything. Sokka pulls away, runs his hands down the length of Zuko’s torso. He slips the tip of his fingers into the band of Zuko’s pants. 

“I want to see you,” he whispers, kissing a line through the soft fur on Zuko’s belly. He pauses, rubs his jaw across the swell of secret softness in the cradle of Zuko’s hips. “Can I?” 

Zuko nods, still panting deeply. “Yeah, but.” He lets his head thunk back for a moment, then lifts it to look at Sokka again. “You get naked too. I want to see you; touch you.” 

Sokka huffs out a breathless laugh. “I can do that.” Before he thinks too deeply about it, he’s pulling away his top, pushing his pants and loin cloth down in one motion. He feels a little stupid, standing naked on his knees with his dick already hard. He’s always been a little nervous about his body, awkward about showing it to anybody. Katara is so sturdily built, broad and strong like their dad. Sokka’s always been scrawny in comparison, bones wide without any thick muscles to fill it out. But Zuko is looking at him like he never wants to look away. 

“Agni,” Zuko breathes. “You’re beautiful.” 

Sokka has never been called beautiful. He thanks the moon and stars above that he and Zuko didn’t meet when he was younger. The Sokka of last summer would have bucked at being called a ‘feminine’ term, hurt and insecure by the implications he imagined. Now, he’s inclined to believe that he could be beautiful. He could be anything in the world as long as Zuko keeps looking at him like that. He smiles, rubs a patch of skin on Zuko’s side. “You are too. Can I--?” He gestures to Zuko’s pants. 

“Oh!” Zuko flushes, pushes his hips up and slides his pants off in a single push, leaving only a set of small shorts that are tented and stained darker just below. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

Sokka shakes his head, struck dumb by the scent Zuko’s pants have released. That earthy smell is now everywhere in the tent, practically radiating off of Zuko. The honey notes in his scent are stronger too, a lovely counterpoint to the richness of his arousal. Tui and La, Sokka wants to stick his nose directly between Zuko’s thighs and stay there forever. 

Zuko’s voice startles him from his staring. “Sorry. I know I’m, uhm-- messy.” 

“Oh, Spirits, don’t apologize.” Sokka swoops down, kisses Zuko, gets a bit distracted when he feels Zuko’s braids under his hand. “Never apologize.” Another kiss. “I’m into it. Into you.” 

Zuko smiles shyly, pulls Sokka into a kiss. His hands are warm as they run down Sokka’s sides, coming around to push up his front. Zuko scratches at the spiral curls on Sokka’s chest, runs his fingers lightly over Sokka’s nipples. Sokka jerks, hips snapping forward, a sound he doesn’t recognize torn from his lips. He never paid his nipples much thought, but maybe it’s time to start. Zuko laughs, but it makes Sokka laugh, makes him feel less alone, less lost. In all his fantasies about mating, about coupling at all, he never imagined himself laughing, never imagined looking into someone’s eyes and wanting to kiss their nose. But here he is. He ducks down, lays a smooch on Zuko’s nose that makes him scrunch up his face adorably. Sokka laughs again, leans into the warmth of Zuko’s body, Zuko’s palms on his skin, Zuko’s breath against his face. 

Sokka smiles, runs his free hand down the side of Zuko’s body. “Show me how to make you feel good?” 

Zuko searches his face for a moment then nods. “Okay.” He shifts, pushes his shorts down to reveal absolutely nothing underneath. Sokka goes cross-eyed. 

He pushes back to help Zuko pull them off and nearly hits his head on the top of the small tent. He guides the shorts down Zuko’s legs, balls the fabric up and presses his face directly into it. The smell goes directly to his hindbrain, every Alpha instinct lighting up with the need to mate. He pulls away from the shorts before he goes positively feral. The sight before him isn’t doing much to calm him down. 

Zuko is nude and belly up on Sokka’s bedroll, knees drawn up, flushed all the way down to his pretty nipples. Sokka leans forward just enough to stuff Zuko’s shorts underneath his pillow, earning an eyeroll and a pleased flush for his troubles. Zuko had to open his legs, make space for Sokka’s body, and Sokka takes advantage of that now. He sits back on his heels, hands on Zuko’s knees. Zuko’s prick is flushed as pink as the rest of him, rising from a thatch of dark curls. He doesn’t have any foreskin, which Sokka supposes makes sense - no need for extra skin if there isn’t going to be a knot. Just below, his body opens, folds already swollen and slick. Sokka wants to touch but isn’t sure how, doesn’t know the first thing about what would make Zuko feel good. Spirits, Zuko is small, even here. How is Sokka supposed to fit? 

“What are you looking at?” Zuko’s voice is already defensive, face scrunched up in the beginnings of angry embarrassment. “It’s nothing special.” 

“It is to me - special, I mean.” Sokka shrugs, feeling so far out of his depth it’s laughable. What is he even supposed to say? “I’ve never seen an O’s body before. You’re beautiful to me, every last inch of you, and I want to make you feel good but I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

Zuko’s face softens, regret and pleasure mingling in his expression. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” His hands come to meet just below his chest, fingers fiddling. “Mai didn’t exactly stop to look. It’s-- I don’t know. You’re the first A that’s ever looked at me like that, I guess.” 

Fondness swells in Sokka. He shifts forward, rests on one elbow to kiss Zuko senseless. When Zuko is squirming against the bedroll again, scent thick in the air, Sokka trails his lips down Zuko’s jaw, heads toward Zuko’s ear. “Alright, Sunshine. For real this time. Tell me what to do.” 

Zuko grabs Sokka’s free hand, pushes it toward his opening. “Gentle, first. Take your finger, drag it up and down, like this.” Zuko mimics the motion on Sokka’s back, drawing shivers from Sokka’s body. Spirits, he can already tell this is going to be heady. He does as Zuko instructs, moving by touch through coarse hairs before arriving at the slick, smooth warmth of Zuko’s folds. He follows the motions, smiles against Zuko’s neck when the O jumps then tips his hips down into Sokka’s hands, asking without asking for more. 

“Yeah?” He feels smug and triumphant, on top of the world. Zuko chokes out a laugh. 

“You’re a real natural,” he says, voice wry. “Little circles now, right over-- a little low- Oh! Mmm!” His hips grind up, chasing Sokka’s hand as he follows orders. Zuko’s hands clench, pulling at the skin of Sokka’s back. Sokka follows the silent commands, bringing his body closer to Zuko’s. Spirits, he feels so good. 

“Okay,” Zuko says. “Okay, now-- now try one finger. Slow, okay? Your fingers are thicker than mine.” 

Sokka releases a shivery sigh, slips his middle finger into the tight, blood hot clutch of Zuko’s body; slow, just like Zuko asked. He watches Zuko’s face, unsure if what he’s seeing is pleasure or discomfort. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. It’s-- weird, at first. Different.” 

“Good different, or bad different?” 

Zuko just rolls his eyes. “Spirits around, Sokka. Less talking, more--.” He threads his fingers through Sokka’s hair pulls and pushes until Sokka is mouth level with Zuko’s nipple once again. Sokka is more than happy to comply. He pulls the pink bud into his mouth, suckling and nipping softly, trying to get back to the sounds Zuko was making before. He just-- Spirits, he wants to make this  _ good _ for Zuko. 

After a few moments, Zuko shifts, making a noise closer to what Sokka is hoping for. “Okay,” he sighs. “Now, um… Spirits, how do I explain this. Y’know how- uhm- how you scratch Momo under his chin?” 

Sokka can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. All thoughts of making Zuko feel good fly out the tent opening, lost the very moment their communal pet flying lemur and sex came into the same conversation. Thankfully, Zuko is laughing too, both hands covering a face that is likely burning red. “Spirits  _ around _ ,” Zuko groans. “I can’t believe I just said that.  _ Why _ did I say that?” 

Sokka pushes up with one hand to press light, fluttering kisses to Zuko’s hands, as many as he can manage while still chuckling with one hand - one finger, really - still in Zuko’s body. “It’s okay,” Sokka coaxes. “It’s fine. Whatever makes you feel good. You want me to scratch you like Momo?” 

Zuko snorts hard. “Spirits, don’t scratch  _ anything _ with your fingers  _ inside _ me. But a similar motion. Like, uhm--” he makes a gesture with his own fingers, a sort of petting motion not unlike giving Momo an affectionate scratch. Sokka tries to mimic the motion with the finger still inside Zuko. 

He squirms, tipping his hips back and forth. “A little lower. Like, pull out a little. Okay, now try-- Nng!” If Sokka thought the first tip of his hips was intense, he was sorely mistaken. Zuko’s whole body rolls and arches as he grinds down on that finger. His head is screwed into the pillows, hair a beautiful mess around him, neck arched like he’s on display, and Sokka-- Sokka has never been more in love. 

“Tui and La, how does anyone leave their mating igloo?” 

“What?” 

“Don’t worry about it. I just want more of you.” He keeps up the motion, fascinated by everything that’s happening. Now that he’s paying attention, he can feel what Zuko was guiding him towards - a ridged patch of skin not too far in that apparently makes Zuko light up like a Fire Nation festival. It takes Sokka a few tries to catch Zuko’s rhythm, find the intensity that makes him flush even deeper, gasp even louder, dig his heels into their furs even harder. 

“Okay,” Zuko gasps out, eyes squeezed shut. “Two now. Gimme another finger. And kiss me. I want-- want you close.” 

Sokka gladly eases himself to his elbow, bizarrely thankful to Piandao for forcing him to do all those insane push ups. They kiss easily, a shockingly sweet contrast to the way Zuko is snapping his hips to meet Sokka’s finger. 

“Any instructions,” Sokka asks between the press of their lips, “or am I just going for it?” 

“Pull out a little. You need, uh--” Zuko breaks off to pant against their furs. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead, the dip of his throat, the line of flushed skin between his breasts. Spirits, he’s beautiful. “You need to get the other finger wet. It’ll burn if it isn’t, trust me. Like, run your finger through my slick.” Zuko hides his face again, shakes his head. “There’s no way to describe this that isn’t somehow a bad romance scroll.” 

Sokka huffs out a little laugh, kisses the perfect tip of Zuko’s nose. He knows he’s high on Alpha instincts, so damn pleased to have any part of himself inside Zuko. The O could speak pure gibberish to Sokka, and he would love it, would hang off of every false word. 

Sokka does Zuko’s bidding, ends up pulling all the way out to run two fingers up and down Zuko’s folds, and pushing in gently. Without being asked he ducks down, sucks a bruise just beside Zuko’s nipple, tries to distract him from the discomfort he must be feeling. Zuko threads his fingers into Sokka’s hair, fiddles with his braids. Love swells in Sokka’s chest, bright and fuller than anything he’s ever felt before. They’re doing this, or on their way to doing it, Sokka supposes, and it’s real and he’s in love with Zuko. He loves Zuko. 

“You okay, Sunshine?” 

“Mmhm. Move.” 

And what can Sokka do but obey? The right rhythm is already easier to find. Already, it’s easier to rock with Zuko, press kisses into his skin, his lips. Already, he feels like he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. 

“I love you,” Sokka whispers. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, maybe it was better left implied, said with actions rather than words but it’s falling out of his mouth and he can’t stop now. “I love you, I love you. Zuko. Spirits, I love you.” 

Zuko’s hands clutch his back, his waist, warm and real and desperate, suddenly. “Sokka-- I-- Oh!” He’s suddenly squeezing hard on Sokka’s fingers, hard enough to bruise, breath escaping him in heavy pants as his body rolls in heaving waves.  _ He’s finishing _ , Sokka realizes somewhat dumbly. Before Sokka can get his wits about him, Zuko is relaxing against their furs, chest heaving, a small, brilliant smile lighting up his face. Sokka pulls out his fingers with a thick, lewd sound. 

“Mm,” Zuko winces. “Gimme a sec, and we’ll--” he cuts off to pant a bit more. “We’ll do this thing.” 

Sokka pauses, hand still held awkwardly in the air, fingers feeling nearly glued together by Zuko’s finish. “What? You just finished.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees. Sokka is clearly missing something. Zuko opens his eyes, bleary and pleased looking. “I’ve gotta relax somehow, turtleduck.” 

“But… you’re done.” 

Zuko scrunches up his face. “Says who?” When Sokka holds up his glued together fingers, Zuko just laughs. “O’s can go more than once. I--” he pauses, pulls himself up onto his knees and guides Sokka’s wet hand to his dick. Sokka makes a punched out noise, distracted enough by _Zuko’s finish_ _on_ _his actual knot_ to let Zuko push him down like he’s felling a platypus bear. “I,” Zuko continues, “like to finish at least once. It’s not good if I haven’t. Push your hips up?” 

Sokka does so blindly, finally getting around to squeezing his knot, spreading Zuko’s scent over such an intimate place. He’ll smell like the O for  _ days _ , honey-sweet and earthy-rich, and-- and there’s a pillow under his hips? 

“Trust me,” Zuko says, apparently a mind reader as well as a fire bender. “Makes it easier on me when we knot; a better angle.” And then Zuko is  _ grabbing Sokka’s dick _ and Sokka is dangerously close to finishing this before it’s even begun. Maybe Zuko can pop back up after finishing but Sokka simply is not built that way. 

“Oh, Spirits,” Sokka chokes out. “Sunshine, I don’t wanna finish too soon.” Zuko immediately gentles his touch. 

“Sorry.” He lays a conciliatory kiss on Sokka’s hip, follows it with a suck that sends electricity directly into Sokka’s gut. “I’ll be gentle.” And then he’s kneeling up over Sokka’s hips, running a few fingers through his own folds, his own  _ finish _ ,  and wetting Sokka’s whole dick. Another choked noise escapes Sokka, entirely out of his control, as his brain whites out with pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Zuko--” 

“Okay,” Zuko is cooing. “Alright. We’re so close, baby.” And then Zuko is kissing him, his hand squeezing below Sokka’s knot hard enough to take the edge off. “Just give me a second. I’ll give you what you need. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Sokka echos, half mindless and thrilled beyond belief that they’ve even said it, even made it this far. A year ago Zuko had a shitty haircut and was trying to abduct his grandmother. Now they’re here. Zuko was right: fate is fucking weird, and destiny is fake, but he’s never been happier to be pulled along by its tide. 

“I love you,” Sokka says again, just to feel the words on his lips, to make sure he hasn’t forgotten to say it. He wants to say it over and over, wants to make it his only mantra. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Zuko sits up and guides Sokka to his opening. With a steady exhale, he starts sitting down. Immediately, that blood hot slickness is nearly overwhelming Sokka. It’s tempered, though, but the wariness and discomfort in Zuko’s face. 

“Hey,” Sokka says quietly. “Take your time, Sunshine. We’re in no rush.” 

“I mean, we kinda are, but okay.” And then they’re laughing, and wow that feels weird but good because it’s Zuko, and he somehow makes everything feel good, even the weird stuff. But then Zuko isn’t laughing, is sighing in the most luxurious way Sokka has ever heard. He’s wincing a little but still descending with small circles of the hips that already have Sokka seeing stars. 

“Spirits, Zuko.” 

Zuko simply nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth, brow crumpled in the sweetest expression of foggy concentration. “Feels good,” he whispers. “Touch me?” 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He starts with Zuko’s hair, running his clean hand through it, shaking it gently out of Zuko’s face. His finger catches in a snag, pulling the hair taught. Zuko makes a dangerously beautiful sound and slips down a little further, his expression tightening with what could be arousal or pain. 

“You okay?” 

Zuko only nods, shifting higher on his knees to bounce a few times before dropping lower again.  _ I’m never recovering from this _ , Sokka thinks. He feels halfway to delirious, feels entirely undeserving of someone so sweet, so strong, so damned attractive. 

Sokka continues with his plan, running fingers through Zuko’s hair, letting it lead him to Zuko’s neck, his collar bones, the lines of his ribs.  _ More food _ , he adds to his mental list of things to give Zuko back in the South Pole.  _ As much food as the O can eat - get some more meat on his bones _ . Sokka’s brain jabs him with an image of a well-fed Zuko, softer through his tummy, his thighs, his arms, then upper cuts with an image of Zuko  _ pregnant _ \-- Tui, Sokka is going to explode. 

His hands continue their path even as Sokka’s brain completely whites out. They trail down the line of Zuko’s belly, toying with the soft hairs leading to Zuko’s prick, tugging gently which elicits the sweetest squirm, a few seconds of desperate bouncing. Carefully, Sokka runs his finger across the tip of Zuko’s prick. The O  _ howls _ . 

Zuko flushes down to his nipples, stuffs one hand in his mouth as his chest heaves with breath. Around Sokka’s dick his walls flutter quickly, practically pulsing. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ , Sokka knew mating would be good but-- 

“Spirits, Zuko,  _ fuck _ .” 

He nods frantically, pulls his hand out of his mouth just long enough to say, “Yeah, that’s kinda the goal.” Sokka would laugh but he’s a bit distracted by the tight warmth surrounding his dick, the slick that’s dripping down his balls. 

“You still feeling okay?” Sokka feels dumb checking, but he didn’t suffer through Gran Gran’s mating talk for him to not make sure his partner feels good. 

Zuko gives him an incredulous look. “No,” he drawls. “I’m up here for my health. No pleasure derived from this particular activity.” 

Sokka runs his thumb from the root to the tip of Zuko’s dick in retaliation. “Just makin’ sure, Sunshine.” 

When Zuko comes back to himself, he rolls his eyes. “Asshole.” Then, more sincerely. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

“Anytime.” 

It only takes Zuko a few more moments to be fully seated on Sokka’s dick. He rolls his hips experimentally, lip caught between his teeth. He’s a vision, flushed and lightly sweating, smelling like loam and honey, chest heaving and muscles flexing as he finds his center. Then, slowly, he leans forward, walking his hands toward Sokka’s head until he’s balanced with one hand by Sokka’s ear and the other by his armpit. Their chests rub together, a slick grind so different from the one just south, but still deliciously good. 

“This angle feel okay?” Zuko checks. 

Sokka suddenly understands how ridiculous his check-in must have sounded. Every angle would feel good. Still he nods, picks his head up to press a kiss to Zuko’s lips. “Yeah, I’m good, Sunshine.” 

“Good.” Then Zuko is shifting up with his hips and slamming back down. Sokka sees stars. 

Zuko quickly establishes a steady rhythm of two shallow strokes and one plunge, a reliable melody for Sokka to follow. After he finds his wits and remembers that he isn’t the only one meant to get pleasure from this, he experiments with when to thrust up, at what angle. He knows he gets it when Zuko’s soft whimpers startle into a trembling moan, sparks flying between them from his mouth. 

That look of foggy concentration is back on Zuko’s face, ten times hotter because he’s close enough for Sokka to track each wave of pleasure in the tightening of his eyebrows, the drop of his jaw, the speed of his exhale. Try as Sokka might, the edge he’s been riding since Zuko undid his breast binding isn’t going to last long. “Sun--Sunshine-- I-- I’m gonna--” 

Frankly, Zuko doesn’t seem to be in much better condition. “Yeah-- Gimme-- I want-- Want you to finish. C’mon baby, wanna see you come, wanna feel you.” 

Sokka gives into the need to rut, to thrust and seek his pleasure in Zuko’s body. His knot is already flaring, feeling swollen and sending sparks of pleasure up Sokka’s spine each time Zuko slides all the way down. “Can I knot? Is that--? Sunshine?” 

Zuko nods, breaking their rhythm to coax Sokka’s knot into him. “Always easier in romance scrolls,” he says with a chagrined quirk to his lips. 

Sokka considers asking if Zuko needs them to change positions or if he should do something to help them along. Then, with a soft whimper, Zuko is fully seated, knot locked in. He walks himself fully back up, applying the sweetest pressure to his knot. Clearly the position suits Zuko as well, a shiver rolling through his body. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel… yeah. This is good.” 

“I’m so glad you approve,” Sokka offers with a breathless laugh.

Zuko chuckles, muscles fluttering around Sokka’s knot, punching a groan out of him. “Tell me what feels good,” Zuko prompts. “I wanna make you feel good.” 

“Fuck, Zuko. Everything. Everything feels good. Whatever you want to do, I am totally down.” 

Zuko smiles softly, reaches out to brush a finger down the side of Sokka’s neck. “Okay,” he offers quietly. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Their reprieve did nothing to cool the fire burning in Sokka’s stomach, merely held him suspended just before the edge of finishing. It only took a few languid circles of Zuko’s hips and a single tug at the hair on his chest for him to topple over the edge, tossed over on a wave of  _ ZukoZukoZuko.  _

When he comes back to himself, Zuko is watching him with a flush high on his cheeks. 

“Did you-- uhm.” 

Zuko flushes deeper, shakes his head. 

“Do you… do you  _ want _ to finish another time?” 

Zuko rocks his hips left to right a little bit. “No? Not really?” 

“Okay.” 

On a soft sigh, Zuko walks down to lay chest to chest with Sokka. Relaxed like he is, there’s a soft tug on the knot but it doesn’t pull out and neither does it hurt. By the way Zuko is relaxing, head resting on the pillow beside Sokka’s head, it isn’t hurting him either. “That was really good,” Zuko says quietly. “For me, at least. I just don’t feel like finishing a second time. Sometimes I get really sad afterwards for no reason, so…” 

Sokka pulls him closer, presses a soft kiss to Zuko’s forehead. “I’m glad it was really good for you. It was really good for me too.” 

“Yeah? I didn’t ruin your first time?” 

Sokka huffs a quiet laugh. “You couldn’t. It’s you.” 

Zuko just hums, snuggling closer. Sokka reaches over, straining to catch the top layer of their sleeping bag between his two fingers. It takes a bit of shifting, but he eventually gets them covered. “I love you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Zuko pulling him close. “I love you so much, Zuko.” 

Zuko, for his part, snores. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we come to an end. i hope you enjoyed! come talk in the comments if it strikes your fancy!


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